


Emergency Substitute

by parentaladvisorybullshitcontent



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Hogwarts AU, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parentaladvisorybullshitcontent/pseuds/parentaladvisorybullshitcontent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You could always charm Phil for us,” Jack suggests. “Throw him off his game.”</p><p>“Right, yeah,” Dan says sarcastically. “Midway through the match I’ll just Summon his broom to me and he'll fall off and then Gryffindor’ll automatically win.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean that kind of charm,” Jack says, under his breath.</p><p>In which Dan is roped into playing Quidditch when all he really wants is a quiet life. And for Phil to never leave Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because everyone has to write a Hogwarts AU once, right? Right??
> 
> I am an enormous Harry Potter nerd so if there are any inaccuracies rest assured I'm embarrassed as hell about them and I'm about to go into hiding indefinitely.  
> Also many many apologies for the mangled characterisation and screwing around of the ages of all your faves, I'm a mess
> 
> For Cristina (at last, I fucking did it, are you proud of me) and everyone I've bugged about this fic <3 Special shout out to those of you who aren't even in the phandom and thought I was losing my mind (I totally am)

“Dan, come on.”

“No.”

“Think of the Quidditch Cup…”

“I don’t want to think about the Quidditch Cup,” Dan says, patiently. “Look, unless you’re gonna tell me anything about the phases of Jupiter can you drop it? This essay’s due in tomorrow.”

With an almighty sigh, Jack drops into the seat opposite Dan’s. Dan isn’t looking, but he’s pretty sure Jack’s pulling the same face he does when Louise is beating him at chess and he’s trying to make her feel bad about it.

“ _Dan_ ,” He says.

“You promised me that I wasn’t even the substitute,” Dan reminds him. “You were like, ‘oh Dan it’s not an official thing, you’ll never actually have to play’.”

When Dan finally looks up from his parchment, Jack’s still pulling the face, like a sad cat left out in the rain.

“I thought you wouldn’t,” He says. “But Casey left last year and now Emma’s got dragon pox, and we _need_ you.”

“The Quidditch season doesn’t start for weeks,” Dan points out, after a moment's thought. “She might be ok by then.”

Jack waves a hand at him and says, “No good. The other teams are already organising practices, we can't be behind. I want to get a solid strategy in place as soon as possible.”

Dan stares at the light glinting off his ink jar, wondering if there’s any way he can get out of this.

The last thing he wants is to play Quidditch. Honestly, the last thing.

When he’d first tried out for the team (stupid, clueless third year that he was) he’d been keen, excited, spurred on by a few goals he’d scored over the summer, playing at home with friends. The actual reality of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch was a completely different thing, and even though Dan’s tryout hadn’t gone as badly as some people’s – he distinctly remembers there’d been a second year boy who’d flown straight into a goal hoop and knocked himself out – it’d been pretty bad. Bad enough that he didn’t make the team, at least.

When Jack had come to him later and told him he’d be the emergency substitute, Dan had sort of assumed he was only saying it because Louise had prodded him into it to make Dan feel better. He only realised Jack wasn’t joking a few months later when he ended up playing a few games because one of the chasers had to go home for a few weeks.

They’d been utterly, completely disastrous. It’s been years and Dan’s still recovering from the humiliation. He remembers going to Jack afterwards and making him promise (swearing on his broom and his complete collection of chocolate frog cards and his signed poster of the Weird Sisters) that Dan wouldn’t ever have to play Quidditch ever again. This was a promise that Jack had upheld.

That is, until now.

“This is because you’re too lazy to hold tryouts, isn’t it,” Dan says, eventually.

“No,” Jack says, outraged. Then, after a pause, he flops down onto the table and groans, “I hate tryouts.”

“Oh my God,” Dan says.

“What?” Jack says, obviously trying not to smile. “You have to sit outside in the cold all day and tell a bunch of first years to get lost until next year…Ugh.” He pulls a face. “And anyway, why should I hold tryouts when I have a perfectly good emergency substitute right here?”

He’s poking Dan on the arm across the table, grinning at him.

Dan rolls his eyes.

“Have you and Dean been practicing Memory Charms again?” He says. “I’m not any good.”

“You’re good enough,” Jack says, stubbornly. Dan’s about to say, _why don’t you ask Dean’s nose if it agrees_ when Jack continues, hurriedly, “You’re better than a forfeit. Please.”

And Dan just knows that Jack isn’t gonna let this go, and if he says no he’ll end up having similar conversations with Dean or maybe even Louise until he’s forced to agree.

“I thought you guys were screwed anyway,” He says, slowly. “Phil’s their Keeper, right? Nothing ever gets past him.”

Jack scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“He should’ve been a seeker. Gets distracted by shiny stuff.”

“Just because he plays a better game than you,” Dan says in a sing-song voice.

Jack pulls a face and prods Dan’s arm again.

“Whose side are you on?”

“This side,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying, Phil’s got a good team, and bringing me in isn’t gonna make you any stronger.”

“You could always charm him for us,” Jack suggests. “Throw him off his game.”

“Right, yeah,” Dan says sarcastically. “Midway through the match I’ll just Summon his broom to me and he'll fall off and then Gryffindor’ll automatically win.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of charm,” Jack says, under his breath. When Dan frowns at him, he adds, “Will you do it? Please, Dan.” He pauses. “I have a box of sugar quills with your name on it?”

Dan sighs.

“Make it two boxes and you’ve got a deal,” He says.

-

“You?” Louise says, incredulously, staring at him across the table.

They're holed up in the library writing yet another stupid essay (this one about practical and legal uses for poisons, seriously, who needs Potions?), and Dan just finished filling her in about how he's the Gryffindor team's only hope. Sort of.

“Me,” Dan says, sucking on the end of a sugar quill.

“But I thought that wasn’t a real thing,” Louise says. “I thought you were like, the substitute’s substitute’s substitute.” She frowns. “I thought you made Jack swear you wouldn’t have to play again on everything he loves?”

“That’s what I said!” Dan says, glad he’s not the only one who remembers. “I did! But he’s too lazy to hold tryouts.” He shrugs. “I mean, we won’t win anyway. Hufflepuff are too good, Phil’s all, like, super focused captain, isn’t he?”

Louise looks thoughtful for a moment.

“You _might_ win,” She says, fairly. Dan gives her a look. “What? You might! What d’you want me to say, you’re gonna lose and it’s gonna be really embarrassing?”

“No,” Dan huffs. “Yeah,” He adds, after a second, when Louise raises her eyebrows pointedly. “Let me wallow in my pessimism, ok?”

“I’ll have one of those if you’re gonna wallow,” Louise says, reaching for the box of sugar quills that’s sitting open by Dan’s jar of ink. She licks it and pulls a face. “You’ve sold your soul for rotten teeth.”

“Yep,” Dan says, grinning at her.

They’re quiet for a moment, and Dan casts his eyes over the dog-eared pages of his Potions book, margins crammed with swirls and scribbles and stick men, a testament to how little Dan actually pays attention in class.

“Don’t tell Jack I said this,” Louise says, suddenly. “Or Zoe, but – is it bad that I kind of want Hufflepuff to win?”

Dan grins because he knows what she means immediately.

“No,” He says. “Same, really.”

They smile at each other, conspiratorial.

“Phil deserves it,” She says, with conviction. "He's so sweet."

“And it’s his last chance,” Dan reminds her.

“God, I keep forgetting it’s his last year,” Louise says. She pulls a face, and Dan wonders if she’s trying to get her head around a Hogwarts without Phil in it. Dan knows how she feels.

“Maybe Jack wants him to win too,” He suggests, setting down his sugar quill for a second in favour of a real one, pulling his parchment closer so he can squint at the few words he's already written. “I mean, he could easily hold tryouts for a temporary chaser but instead he asks me?”

Louise rolls her eyes at him.

“Still wallowing?”

Dan shrugs.

“You’re not that bad,” Louise tells him. “Honestly. That one game you played was...it was really good.”

“Was that the time where I broke my leg _and_ someone else's nose, or the other time?” Dan says, dryly.

“The other time,” Louise says, giving him a look. “You scored, remember?”

“By accident,” Dan says, with the air of someone who's had this conversation a lot. Louise shakes her head at him, so he continues. “It was an _accident_ , honestly, I didn't mean to.”

“But you still did,” Louise says.

Dan pulls a face.

“At least nobody's expecting me to be good,” He says, gloomily. “Maybe that's Jack's entire strategy – at least if I'm playing the crowd'll get a good show, right?”

“You'll be fine,” Louise insists. “Me and Zoe can help you train like last time, if you want?”

Dan's scowl softens into a smile at that. There's nothing Louise dislikes more than playing Quidditch, Dan knows, and last time her and Zoe had helped him train it’d mostly involved Zoe zipping around the pitch performing impressive swoops and swerves while Louise shivered on a borrowed broom, wearing so many scarves she could barely see over them. When they’d actually got round to practicing it’d mostly involved Dan missing the goal hoops by miles and Louise’s nose slowly turning red in the cold. Zoe had managed to practice a few decent dives swooping down to fetch the Quaffle every time Dan missed, but apart from that the whole thing had been a dead loss.

“Nah, it's ok, I’ll just do the group practices,” Dan says, grin widening when Louise is obviously relieved. Anyway, the way Dan sees it, Jack knows full well he's a terrible player, so there's no point in him working hard to get better. If Jack wanted a decent chaser he'd have worked to find one instead of settling for Dan.

“Ok,” Louise says. She adjusts her essay on the desk and adds, “Ten more minutes of this before we give up?”

“Ok,” Dan says.

-

Sometimes Dan has this annoying habit of waking up on Saturdays when it's still dark outside. Admittedly sometimes he doesn't go to sleep until morning’s creeping over the treetops, but these days by the time the weekend rolls around he's so tired after a full week of trying to finish essays and being constantly reminded that this is nowhere near as hard as NEWT level work that he ends up going to bed early – only to wake up at the crack of dawn.

Usually he tries to read himself back to sleep by wandlight, but on this particular day his eyes skitter uselessly over the words and he ends up shoving the book back on his bedside table after about five minutes. The dormitory's quiet apart from the others breathing and occasionally snoring, so Dan just gets dressed as quietly as possible, shoves his wand into his pocket and goes for a walk.

Even though it's morning and he's not technically breaking any rules, he still finds himself thinking up some excuse as he walks down the empty corridors, some reason for him to be up so early. He decides on pretending to be sending something to his parents, working around in the direction of the Owlery so his story seems more credible.

Dan's just rounding the corner that leads to the flight of stairs up to the Owlery when someone bursts through a tapestry on his right and nearly gives him a heart attack. He lets out a noise that some might call a shriek, but he prefers to think of as an intimidating war cry.

“Oh my God,” Phil says, clutching his chest and staring wide-eyed at Dan like _he's_ the one who just appeared from nowhere and scared the shit out of him.

“Jesus Christ,” Dan says, trying to convince his pounding heart that he's not about to be attacked by banshees. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“There's a shortcut,” Phil says, apologetically. “Just near the kitchens, the Fat Friar told me about it.”

“Shit,” Dan breathes. Then, feeling foolish when the imminent fear of danger passes, he says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Phil says, and grins at him. “You're up early.”

“I – Owlery,” Dan says, stupidly.

“Me too,” Phil says, producing a small scroll from behind his back. “Should we go up? Your manly scream might've attracted Filch.”

Dan doesn't know whether to laugh or feel mortified, so he swipes at Phil's shoulder instead, which just makes him grin wider.

“Idiot,” He says, but still follows Phil down the corridor all the same.

-

As they're walking up the stairs, Dan ends up telling Phil the real reason he's up this early and lurking around the Owlery. He thinks that's better than him having to linger awkwardly by the school owls until Phil asks him where the letter he's sending is.

“I hate that,” Phil says, sympathetically. “Once I'm awake I can't get back to sleep either, it's a nightmare. Plus I'm so _not_ a morning person, so I kind of have to seal myself off in case I end up being shit to people without meaning to.”

“You don't seem _that_ bad in the mornings,” Dan says, without thinking. It's only when Phil ducks his head, going pink, that he realises that might've been a weird thing to say, so he stammers, “I mean, like – it's the morning now. It's like five past two or something stupid, and you're fine.”

“It's six,” Phil says, rolling his eyes with a smile. “And we have Quidditch practice later, so I had to be up early anyway.” He walks over to the perches where all the school owls are, hundreds of disgruntled eyes watching them, and reaches a hand up for one. A barn owl hops onto his outstretched arm and holds its leg out, and Phil starts trying to tie his scroll to it.

Dan walks off while he's doing that, moving off to stand by the window. The last thing he wants is to get covered in droppings or bits of dead mouse or anything, so he doesn't get too close to the wall, but close enough to the window that he can look out over the grounds.

The sky’s still dark, fading to inky blue on the horizon where the sun’s about to rise. The castle lawns and the lake look strange in the dark, somehow more magical than they do by daylight. Dan finds himself trying to avoid looking over in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. It’s not actually visible from this vantage point, but he knows if he looked he could see the tops of the stands and the goal hoops over to the left.

Despite all his bluster to Louise, he's starting to get this tight, worried knot in his stomach whenever he thinks of actually being on the Quidditch team. Dan's well aware he's a laughing stock when it comes to sport, but it's only ok if he mentions it – he thinks the whole school bringing it up might wear thin after a while.

Phil's owl flutters over Dan's head and disappears out of the window, flying away over the grounds. Phil comes and stands next to him, the two of them looking out of the window without talking for a while. Dan likes how small everything looks from up here – how they're so high that he feels like he could run over the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest without falling – like he could fly like the owls.

“Dan?” Phil's saying.

“Mm?” Dan blinks, shaking out of his reverie, and looks at Phil, who might've already been speaking. “Sorry, I'm – didn't get a lot of sleep.”

“It's ok,” Phil says, with a small smile. “I was just asking – I heard you're on the Gryffindor team now?”

Dan makes a disgusted noise.

“Ugh,” He says. “Don't remind me.” Phil doesn't say anything, so Dan tries for a smile and adds, “You've got the Cup in the bag, honestly.”

“Not necessarily,” Phil says, fairly, and Dan snorts. “Jack's got a strong side.” He nudges his shoulder up against Dan's. “Don't sell yourself short.”

“Phil,” Dan says, slowly. “You've seen me play. You have seen me play, right?”

“Yeah,” Phil says. “You're fine, you just need to have more confidence, that's all.”

“I need to be kept about half a mile away from all other players, you mean,” Dan says, darkly.

“No,” Phil says, nudging him again. Then, after a moment's silence, he adds, “I could always help you out, if you want?”

Dan looks at him.

“Oh yeah?” He says. “Are you gonna transfigure the pitch into a giant bouncy castle so I get a soft landing when I fall off my broom? 'Cause I think that's against the rules.”

“No,” Phil says, smiling at him. “I'm not _that_ good at Transfiguration. I mean – we could, like, train together? If you want?”

Dan blinks. Phil doesn't _seem_ like he's joking, but Dan could be missing something. He feels like he's been asleep for ten minutes – the cool morning air coming in through the window does nothing to make him feel less like his brain's been replaced with warm cotton wool.

“Seriously?” He says, doubtfully.

“Yeah,” Phil says.

Dan thinks about it. Phil knows what he's doing when it comes to Quidditch, he knows that – hasn't Dan watched nearly every match he's played in? But Dan's useless, truly terrible; it'd take nothing short of a miracle to help him to play any better.

“Wouldn't that be, like, helping the enemy?” Dan says, slowly.

“Since when have we been enemies?” Phil points out, then hesitates. “It's ok, if – if you'd rather practice with Jack and the others, I just thought...”

“No, no,” Dan says, quickly, because Phil looks kind of sad about him rejecting his help, and that's the last thing Dan wants. “No, Phil, that'd be great, honestly. I just – I'm really, _really_ bad, I don't know what you're gonna get out of this.”

Phil shrugs, his face a little pink.

“I just want to help, that's all,” He says. “And, well – we both need to train, right? There's no reason why we shouldn't.”

“No,” Dan says, even though he can think of a whole host of reasons. Namely how Jack might react about the whole thing – he doesn't want to have another conversation about whose side he's on. “No, you're right.”

“Great,” Phil says. There’s a moment of silence as they both carry on looking out of the window, and then he adds, “You’ll be playing like a champion in no time.”

Dan snorts and pushes him in the arm.

“Shut _up_ ,” He says, when Phil laughs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Any mistakes are because I fail at formatting and I was trying to get this done in the ten minutes before leaving the house, I'm sorry!)

Jack’s determined for the Gryffindor team to start practicing as soon as possible, so Dan has his first Quidditch practice before he and Phil have even managed to sort out their one-on-one training sessions.

It’s unsurprising, then, that the entire thing is a disaster.

Jack insists on it being on Sunday morning – which, of course, instead of being a morning where Dan wakes up horribly early is a morning where he wakes up to Alfie shaking him and has to peel himself out of bed. By the time he's down in the changing rooms, shivering as he pulls on a uniform that's too big for him, all he wants to do is lie down on the floor and maybe curl up under his own discarded t-shirt.

The only thing that makes him feel better is that the rest of the team are similarly sleepy – out of the corner of his eye, Dan’s vaguely aware of Jim, one of the beaters, repeatedly trying to pull his socks on and missing his actual feet by a good few centimetres. When they all sit down to listen to Jack, Zoe seems determined to use Alfie’s shoulder as a pillow.

“Just resting my eyes,” She mutters, unconvincingly, without raising her head.

Alfie gives Dan a little smile when he looks at him, but he looks like he’s seconds away from snoring himself.

Even Jack seems tired, but Dan thinks he’s passed warm and sleepy and skidded straight into wide-eyed and sort of manic, almost vibrating on his feet as he sets up an enormous pad on a stand at the front of them all.

“Coffee,” Dean says quietly from next to Dan, answering the question he didn’t even get to ask. “Lots and lots of coffee.”

He’s about to ask why Jack didn’t bring a vat of it for them all to drink, when Jack starts making these frantic motions in their direction. At first, Dan assumes it’s some weird code him and Dean have together, but then he realises that Jack’s looking at _him_.

“What?” Dan says, sounding slow and stupid to his own ears.

“He wants to introduce you,” Dean tells him, helpfully. “Go on,” He adds, giving him a nudge in the arm.

So Dan ends up standing in front of a group of people who already know exactly who he is (Joe, the other beater, gives him a cheerful little wave) so that Jack can pointlessly introduce him.

“Dan's our saving grace,” Jack says, which Dan thinks is way, way too optimistic. He accidentally catches Dean's eye across the room and Dean pulls a face at him that makes him stifle a laugh. Dan’s glad he doesn't hold a grudge over that whole broken nose thing – he knows it happened years ago, but it’s not the sort of thing you forget in a hurry.

“D'you reckon wearing a full face helmet's against the rules?” Dean pipes up, suddenly, grinning at Dan, who rolls his eyes and flushes a little.

“Nobody's gonna need a full face helmet,” Jack says, patiently, but even he’s smiling.

“Yeah,” Dan says. “Honestly, guys, I can't promise any, like, goals, but I won't break any noses. Cross my heart.”

Then Jack lets him sit back down and starts talking strategy, scrawling away on his pad in the corner of the changing room, all these little labelled dots and coloured arrows. The only thing that stops Dan dozing off is Alfie and Dean periodically nudging him in the ribs to keep him awake.

When they get outside, it gets even worse. It quickly emerges that the rest of the team work together like a well-oiled machine, and Dan's just some displaced cog slowing the whole mechanism down. Dan's just not used to it, so he flinches whenever the beaters raise their bats, and he holds the broom handle too tightly, moving around in the air stiffly, and instinctively backs away whenever Jack or Alfie try and pass the quaffle to him. Zoe gives him reassuring smiles whenever she flies past, practicing sharp turns and dives, and it's sweet of her but it doesn't make him feel any better.

By the end he can tell everyone's thinking that Jack's crazy for letting him on the team, and Dan completely agrees with them. He gets changed as slowly as possible, and then hangs around as the others leave so he can talk to Jack. Dean's there too, but Dan guesses anything he says to Jack Dean will end up finding out anyway.

“Well,” Jack says, before Dan can even open his mouth. “That was promising.”

He's rubbing his hands together and smiling. Dan looks from him to Dean, who doesn't look half as concerned as Dan thinks he should look about how terrible that practice was.

“It was shit,” Dan says, slowly, thinking Jack might've actually gone mad. “ _I_ was shit.”

“Promising,” Jack repeats. Dan can't believe this is happening, he feels like he's stuck in a nightmare. “Dan, honestly. We know what we're doing, ok?”

-

“I saved you some toast,” Louise says when he finds her in the common room a little while later. Zoe's sat with her, and Dan kind of hates himself for hesitating before he sits down opposite them. He wonders just how nice of a spin Zoe had managed to put on the disastrous practice when Louise asked her about it. “Are you ok?”

“Mm,” Dan says, and forces out a smile, reaching for the toast. “Thanks. Can't believe I missed breakfast.”

“Winners don't eat breakfast,” Zoe says. Then, grinning at him, she adds, “At least, that's what I've heard in Jack's motivational speeches.”

“Ugh,” Dan claps the hand not currently holding toast over his face. “You don't even – did you tell her how bad it was?” He looks at Louise. “Because it was, like, sensationally bad. However bad you've already heard it was I want you to add another crate full of bad right onto there, ok?”

“It honestly wasn't that bad,” Zoe says, kindly.

“It was,” Dan insists. “And I only missed breakfast 'cause I stayed behind to try and convince Jack that he's absolutely crazy and he was all like, _we know what we're doing, Dan_.” Louise and Zoe snort with laughter at his terrible Jack impression, but Dan's too agitated to pay much attention. “And what does that even mean, they know what they're doing? Do _you_ know what they're doing?” He asks Zoe, whose smile fades.

“I don't think they're doing anything,” She says, with a shrug. “Jack just thinks you're the best guy for the job, that's all.”

“See?” Louise says. “You know you work well under pressure. It'll be ok.”

Dan snorts at that, because _work well under pressure_ basically means _finishes essays half an hour before they're due to be handed in_ , which is less of a skill and more of a consequence of his poor life choices. Then, tuning back in to Louise and Zoe's nearly identical worried expressions, he realises how much he's actually complaining, and sighs.

“Sorry,” He says. “Sorry, I'm just – I might – I'm gonna go for a walk.”

Dan doesn't want to go for a walk. He wants to go back to bed. He wants Jack to suddenly realise what an idiot he's being and chuck him off the team with immediate effect. But he ends up getting up anyway, edging his way through the common room and out of the portrait hole without looking back.

-

It's only when he's sitting on the floor somewhere near the entrance to the kitchens that he thinks he's made a mistake. God, why couldn't he have just laughed the whole Quidditch thing off like a normal person instead of inflicting it on Louise and Zoe? Why couldn't he have stayed up there with them instead of sitting down here in a cold corridor, waiting?

He's not entirely sure what he's waiting for, exactly. Lots of Hufflepuffs have passed him (in little groups, twos and threes, their chatter halting as they edge past him warily like he's about to try and steal their shoes), but Dan hasn't spoken to any of them, even though he kind of needs to. It's only when a familiar face approaches that Dan gets to his feet, quickly.

“Oh, hi Dan,” PJ says, frowning. “What are you doing down here?”

“I,” Now that the moment's come Dan kind of wants to lie and pretend he came down here to steal cake from the kitchens, but the last thing he wants is for PJ to kindly tell him how to get in there because then he'd be stuck making awkward small talk with the house elves and waiting an appropriate amount of time before skulking back to the Gryffindor common room. “Your common room's down here, right?”

PJ blinks and says, “I, er, aren't we supposed to keep that a secret?”

Dan shrugs.

“I dunno,” He says. “I mean, we've got a tower. Like, literally, it's Gryffindor _Tower_. You can't exactly keep a tower secret, can you?”

PJ smiles at him.

“Fair point,” He says. Then, frowning curiously, he adds, “What d'you want with our common room, anyway?”

“I just wondered if Phil was around,” Dan says, feeling himself flush even before the sentence is halfway out.

“Oh,” PJ says. There's something about the way he says it that makes Dan wish he'd pretended to want to steal cake instead. “Oh, ok. You want me to go and get him for you?”

Dan really should tell PJ it's fine and walk away back to his own common room, but instead he says, “Yeah, thanks, that'd be great.”

-

When Phil appears a few minutes later, he’s compulsively flattening down his hair and he has a little smudge on his cheek that might be ink.

“So you’re the weird guy who’s lurking out here,” He says, smiling at Dan. Dan vaguely wonders what it is about that smile that never fails to loosen the tight knots his stomach works itself into. “I heard some third years talking about you.”

“Rude. I wasn’t doing anything that weird.”

“Sitting on the ground brooding?” Phil says, raising his eyebrows a little, and Dan pushes him in the arm when he laughs. “Ok, sorry. What’s up?”

Dan instantly feels stupid for even bothering Phil with this.

“It’s – it –“

Phil looks so worried all of a sudden that Dan feels worse.

“Is it the kind of thing that feels better after hot chocolate?” He asks.

That surprises a smile out of Dan before he can help himself.

“Probably not,” He says, honestly. “It’s – don’t worry, I’m not dying or anything, I’m just –“ He hesitates, and then it all comes out in a rush. “We just had our first Quidditch practice and it was so bad, and when I tried to quit the team afterwards Jack wouldn’t let me and I just – I dunno. I probably shouldn’t even tell you this because – team secrets, or whatever, and the only reason he’s trying so hard is to beat you, and I just…” Dan trails off with a shrug, his face hot.

“I’m sure you weren’t that bad,” Phil says, gently.

Dan shakes his head before Phil even finishes speaking.

“No, no, I was terrible, you have to believe me.” He relays a quick version of the practice, staring down at the cuff of his robes. “…and then Jack was all, like, _we know what we’re doing_ , like he’s got some big plan beyond me making a total idiot of myself in front of everyone.”

Phil’s expression is all creased up with sympathy, and there’s a moment when he moves his arm like he’s about to touch Dan but then he quickly snatches his hand away, lacing his fingers together.

“Hot chocolate,” He says, after a moment. “That’s my diagnosis.”

“But-“

“Everything’s better after hot chocolate,” Phil insists, and this time he does reach out to touch Dan’s arm, leading him back down the corridor. “Come on.”

-

“Why have I never done this before?” Dan says, a few minutes later, for what feels like the millionth time. “This is amazing. You guys are amazing,” He adds, to the little group of house elves clustered around them.

They all start bowing and curtseying at that. Dan feels kind of guilty – he feels like he should bow back, or something, but Phil starts talking before he can do anything stupid.

“Thank you,” He says to them all, politely. “We won’t be in your way for long, don’t worry.”

“It is no inconvenience, sir,” One of them tells him. Another brings over a little tray with two cups of hot chocolate on it and sets it on the table nearest to where they’re sitting. There are even tiny marshmallows, Dan can’t believe it.

“As long as you’re sure,” He says, doubtfully.

“We is quite sure, sir,” The same house elf lets him know, squeakily.

After a moment the little group disperses – Dan watches them moving around the kitchen, weaving expertly between the long tables, carrying pots and plates and clean cutlery. When he looks at Phil, Phil’s eating shortbread off the plate the house elves had forced upon them when they’d barely set foot in the kitchen.

“Do you do this a lot?” He asks, curiously.

Phil freezes mid-bite of shortbread, and Dan has to stifle a laugh when he ends up breathing crumbs onto his lap.

“Oh my God,” He mutters, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t look at me.”

“I’m not looking,” Dan says, grinning as he puts a hand over his eyes. “No looking here.”

“Shut up,” Phil says, and Dan can’t help but laugh. “Ok, you can look now.”

When Dan uncovers his eyes, Phil’s all red in the face and he’s obviously trying not to smile.

“I like shortbread, don’t judge me,” He says.

“Me too,” Dan says, reaching for some. He watches Phil picking up his hot chocolate and blowing across the steaming surface. “Seriously, though, do you just come down here whenever you want a snack?”

“No,” Phil says, a little defensively. “Just every so often. Hot chocolate makes everything better, I told you.”

“Mm,” Dan says. “Oh my God, this stuff’s amazing,” He adds, after a mouthful of shortbread.

“I know, right?” Phil says. “Try the hot chocolate, it’s even better.”

Dan holds the mug for a moment, warming his cold hands, and then takes a sip.

“Oh my _God_.”

Phil smiles at him, eyes sparkling over the rim of his cup.

They drink their hot chocolate in silence for a moment, then Phil says, “Don’t worry about Quidditch.”

Dan blinks for a moment, wondering what he’s going on about – and then he remembers the disastrous practice and groans mid-sip.

“I’m so shit,” He says. “Seriously.”

“You’re not,” Phil says. When Dan tries to protest, he just keeps speaking. “Honestly. I’m not just saying it to be nice, I’m serious.”

Dan’s too busy snorting over the idea of Phil _not_ doing something _just to be nice_. He’s easily one of the kindest people Dan’s ever met. Dan thinks if he ever tried to be nasty he’d injure himself.

“I don’t know what to do,” He says. “I don’t see how I’m gonna get any better before the Quidditch season actually starts.”

“You will,” Phil says. “’Cause we’re gonna train. It’ll be ok.” When Dan doesn’t say anything, Phil reaches out and tentatively touches his knee with one finger. “Hey, come on.” When Dan looks at him, he’s shuffled a little closer. “What, you think I’m gonna go easy on you when we train together? ‘Cause I won’t.”

Dan can’t help but smile. “What, so I’m gonna get Quidditch Captain Phil Lester, am I? Are you gonna yell at me and stuff? Make me run laps?”

“No,” Phil says, scoffing a little. “But you’ll have to try and get the quaffle past me, right? And I’m-“ He stops, flushing a little.

“You’re really good?” Dan guesses, grinning. When Phil looks like he’s about to say otherwise, Dan cuts across him. “No, you can totally say it, you’re brilliant. Everyone knows that. That’s why you’re the Captain, Phil. That’s why Jack’s so keen on all this early training, he thinks you’ve got the Cup in the bag.” Dan pauses. “So do I, to be honest.”

Phil’s still a little pink in the face but he looks pleased, which makes Dan smile.

“Nothing’s ever certain like that,” Phil says, after a moment. “We still have to get through those early matches – PJ reckons we’ll be playing Slytherin.” He pulls a face. “Obviously we can’t know for sure until the fixtures get announced, but we’ve been, like, bouncing around strategies in case we have to play them.”

“You’re so organised,” Dan says, admiringly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice wants to know why he thinks Phil being all in-control Quidditch Captain is brilliant when he resents Jack for doing the exact same thing. He ignores it. “So that means we might be playing Ravenclaw, then.” He doesn’t know if any of Jack’s wiggly coloured lines from earlier had anything to do with Ravenclaw, but he still resolves to mention this to him next time he sees him. Even if Dan thinks he’s being unfair, there’s no reason not to at least let him know.

“Mm,” Phil says, drinking his hot chocolate again. Dan reaches for his just because, drinking it a little quicker now that it’s started to cool. “Seriously, though, Dan.” He looks so earnest, all wide eyed, that Dan doesn’t have the heart to tell him about the chocolate-foam moustache he’s suddenly got. “Don’t worry about Quidditch. I know everyone goes crazy over it but it’s just a _game_ , isn’t it? It doesn’t really matter.”

Dan laughs. He can’t help himself. When Phil looks hurt, he hurries to explain. “No, no, your whole motivational speech thing is great, just – you have, like, foam.” And without really thinking it through he reaches out to touch Phil’s top lip. He doesn’t mean to, he just meant to point, it’s like his hand got a little too into it or something.

“Oh,” Phil says. He rears back away from Dan’s hand like it’d burnt him, and Dan quickly withdraws it, embarrassed. When he looks up again, Phil’s gone bright red, and one of the house elves is handing him a napkin. “Thanks,” Phil says, quietly, and uses it to wipe his face. When he’s done, he gives Dan an embarrassed smile. “I swear I’m really cool when you’re not around.”

“Hmm, ok,” Dan says, grinning at him.

“I am!” Phil insists. “Just ask Louise.”

“I will,” Dan says.

-

He forgets to ask, in the end. When he gets back to the Gryffindor common room he finds Louise sitting on their favourite sofa (their favourite because it’s by the window but also near the fire, which means on cold days they can stay warm while looking over their shoulders at the trees of the Forbidden Forest rippling in cold winds). She’s saved him a space next to her by piling up a load of books and her bag on the cushion next to her.

“Boo,” Dan says, looming over her a little, and she makes a noise of surprise and leaves a huge blot of ink on the parchment she’s writing on. “Oops, sorry.”

“Dan,” She says, but she’s already half-laughing. “Oh my God. I saved you a seat.”

“I noticed,” Dan says, grinning, and he sets about moving all of the books so he can sink down next to her and pull some broken shortbread from his pocket. “Brought you this.”

“Oh,” Louise says, taking a piece. She takes a bite and her eyebrows fly up. “Oh wow.”

“I know, right?” Dan says, resting the other piece on her knee. “Me and Phil got it from the kitchens.”

Louise chews in silence for a moment, then swallows and says, “Oh, so _that’s_ where you went.”

Dan’s pretty sure the only reason his face feels hot at that is because it's really warm in the common room compared to how cold it was in the corridors.

“I was just hurrying him along about those practice sessions he promised me, that’s all,” He says, smoothly, not even sure why he’s lying. “But we’re gonna start soon, so that’s ok.”

“You know, Zoe wasn’t sugar coating when she said you weren’t that bad,” Louise says after a moment.

“I know, I know,” Dan says, hurriedly, even though he doesn’t know. “It’s ok, I’m already repressing the whole thing, we can just pretend it never happened.”

“At least you’ve got Phil,” Louise says, consolingly.

Dan nods, then watches her gaze flicker down to the parchment she’d accidentally blotted. Digging out his wand, he says, “D’you want me to fix that? It’s not an essay, is it?”

“Nope,” Louise says. “Letter to my dad. And it’s ok, I’ll just start again, I hadn’t written that much.”

“You can’t remember the ink charm thing, can you?” Dan says, grinning and nudging her a little. “It’s ok, neither can I. I swear, we never learn anything useful, it’s all like, spotting Mercury and learning not to antagonise dangerous creatures and, like, brewing up total misery in Potions.”

“I like Potions,” Louise protests, crumpling her parchment and digging a new piece out of her bag.

“Because you’re amazing at it,” Dan says.

He falls silent for a moment, lulled a little by the scratching of Louise’s quill against the page, jolted slightly every time she leans to dip it in the ink. He starts doing the thing he does a little too often – jotting up opposing lists in his mind, lists of things he’s good at and things he isn’t, comparing two columns. It’s almost always a depressing activity when the list of things he’s bad at stretches on and on and on. He pictures it like a scroll, endlessly unrolling.

He’s shit at Potions. He has a terrible habit of leaving essays 'til the last minute. He can’t play Quidditch – ok, so he said he was gonna repress the memory of the practice but he can hardly repress just how bad he is.

Sighing, Dan remembers being floated onto an enchanted stretcher that time he fell off his broom and broke his leg. He definitely could’ve walked back to the castle if they’d let him, but Madam Hooch had been muttering something about broken necks and spinal injuries and had made him stay lying in the mud for a humiliatingly long time. When he was finally conveyed to the hospital wing (spending most of the journey pretending to have passed out), he was closely followed by Dean, who was temporarily put in the bed opposite his.

Madam Pomfrey had fixed Dean’s nose in two seconds flat, not to mention Dan’s leg, but Dan had kind of wanted her to draw the curtains around his bed and tell everyone else to go away until he stopped wanting the bed to eat him alive.

He remembers how worried Louise had been, how as soon as he was allowed visitors she’d come rushing in. Phil had been there too, he remembers – still in his mud-splattered Quidditch uniform. Dan smiles a little as he remembers, because Phil’s hair had been completely crazy, windswept and stuck up everywhere, and it’s the only time Dan thinks he’s ever gone a full ten minutes without making sure it was all in place.

“D’you remember when I broke my leg?” Dan says, suddenly.

“Mm?” Louise says, not looking up from her letter. “Yeah, ‘course, why?”

“I was just thinking – Phil came to see me in the hospital wing, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Louise says, absently. Then her quill stops scratching and she looks round at him. “I’ve never seen him that freaked out in my entire life. He thought you were dead. Even when Madam Pomfrey came out and told us you were fine, he wouldn’t go and get changed or anything until he’d made sure.”

Dan blinks and feels weirdly, pleasantly warm, like his heart’s a candle warming him from the inside.

“Oh,” He says.

Louise gives him a small smile and then goes back to her letter. Dan’s brain feels a little like it’s full of clouds.

He just needs to remember that Phil’s a fundamentally nice person, that’s all. He’s the sort of person who worries when someone falls off their broom and offers training sessions when someone’s all torn up about being bad at Quidditch.

He’s the sort of person who helps terrified first years get their luggage onto the school train.

It’s weird when Dan thinks of that first morning, how frightened he’d been. His dad had had some accident at work or something, Dan thinks, so he’d been in St Mungo’s. It wasn’t serious, but Dan had been eleven, so seeing his dad in a hospital bed was like the sky falling in and crushing him.

His mum’d apparated them both to King’s Cross. She’d stayed just long enough to hug him goodbye and wish him luck and all of that, and she’d gone again. In hindsight he totally understands, because she’d been so worried about his dad, but at the time he’d felt more than a little abandoned, surrounded by the chatter and bustle of everyone else and their parents and their friends.

He thinks he might’ve cut and run, right back through the barrier and into the muggle station, if some guy with black hair hadn’t come over to him out of nowhere and offered to help him get his trunk on the train.

Whenever Dan strains his memory to try and think of that first time he’d met Phil, it’s like it’s all blurred around the edges. Sometimes he thinks Phil smiled at him, but then sometimes he thinks he’s making it up.

Phil has a nice smile, Dan thinks. It’s the kind of smile that makes Dan want to smile too, even if he’s feeling terrible. Dan wonders if that’s what he felt like on that first day, or if it’s just knowing Phil properly that means wanting to smile just because he exists.

Regardless of whether he’d smiled or not, Phil had helped him carry his trunk onto the train and for whatever reason they’d ended up sharing a compartment.

That’d been it, really. When he’d said goodbye to Phil as they were getting off the train, Phil had said something kind and comforting about the upcoming Sorting, and Dan had lost sight of him in the crowd of students in their black robes and he’d just sort of assumed that he’d never see him again – because Phil was older and knew what he was doing, and Dan was young and kind of stupid (or at least, that’s how he sees it, looking back).

Dan had been wrong, though. He'd half expected Phil to pretend that he'd never helped him onto the train at all – that he had no idea who Dan was – but he remembers they'd run into each other one morning a few weeks later. Dan and Louise had been lost trying to find the Transfiguration department, and Phil had greeted Dan brightly, like he was really happy to see him, and then he'd taken them up to Transfiguration even though he'd been on his way down to Herbology.

And that's how it's always been, really.

The entire time Dan's been at school, Phil’s just always been there. Most of Dan’s favourite memories of Hogwarts involve him in some way – like that first Hogsmeade trip in third year, when him and Louise and Zoe had run into Phil and PJ in Zonko’s. Phil had insisted that no first visit to the village was complete without seeing the Shrieking Shack. PJ had nipped off to the post office to see how much it’d be to send an owl to his gran, and Louise and Zoe wanted to go to Dervish and Banges, so Dan had suggested that he and Phil go to the Shack and they all meet in the Three Broomsticks in half an hour.

Which had left him and Phil walking up the slope to the Shrieking Shack, breath making pale clouds in the cold air, while Phil span stories about the supposedly violent ghosts that lived in the Shack.

“…and they can reach into your chest and, like, feel your heart. And their hands are so so cold, it’s like…it’s like swallowing ice cubes.” He’d reached out into the air in front of him, demonstrating. “And then they pull your heart out and it’s still beating, right in front of you-“

Dan remembers laughing and telling him to shut up (because “Ghosts can’t hold solid things, Phil”), and he remembers the way Phil’s laughter had kind of echoed around them. Instead of being creepy it kind of made Dan feel warm, all the way down to his toes, like he’d just taken a sip of Butterbeer.

When Dan comes back to himself, the chatter of the common room slowly filtering back in, he’s just smiling to himself, probably looking crazy. He stops straight away, hoping nobody noticed, and twists to look out of the window.

The sky looks grey and unforgiving – he really hopes his practice with Phil on Tuesday doesn’t end up being in torrential rain.

Louise is still writing next to him, her hand flying over the parchment. For a moment he thinks about telling her about how he keeps dwelling on Phil leaving school – how he’s been dwelling on it since Phil wrote to him back in July, and he’d mentioned being in his last year. It’s not like Dan didn’t realise Phil was a seventh year – he’s always been kind of overly conscious of how many years there are between them – but it’s like he didn’t properly think that soon enough Phil was gonna be _leaving_.

Not for the first time, Dan thinks about how Phil leaving means he’ll meet actual adults, and get an actual job, and he’ll have no time to even _think_ about people who are still in school, never mind contact them.

Dan lets himself mull that over for a little while, until Louise nudges him in the ribs.

“Hey,” She says, gently. “You’ll be fine.”

“Sorry?”

“You and Phil are gonna train and it’s gonna be great,” She continues. “There’s no one better to teach you, is there? And you know Jack’s a massive softie really, it’s not like he’s gonna be mad if you need a couple of sessions to get into the swing of things.”

“Right,” Dan says, stupidly relieved that Louise hasn’t developed mind-reading powers in the last half an hour. “Right, yeah.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to anyone who's left kudos or commented so far. Honestly, you don't understand how happy it makes me when I get little emails about people (hopefully) enjoying this. Thank you <3

If there’s anything Dan knows he’s great at, it’s ignoring things that he really shouldn’t.

So he ignores Louise mentioning the Charms essay that neither of them have started yet (“Two rolls of parchment,” She keeps saying, staring at the essay question as though she hopes it’ll just melt away. She’s ahead of Dan in that respect – he hasn’t even _looked_ at the essay question yet). He ignores the weird Quidditch related dreams he’s started having, which usually end with the nearest goal hoops turning into three swirling vortexes that suck him in.

Dan’s presence on the Gryffindor team is no longer a happy secret, and he doesn’t know what’s worse – overhearing people in the common room complaining that it’s unfair that Jack didn’t even hold tryouts (“…and didn’t Howell nearly kill someone last time he played, anyway?”) or the smirks, sneers and jeers he’s started getting off some of the Slytherin team and their friends.

But either way, he ignores that too.

Most of all, he ignores the way he feels when he’s on his way to the broomshed to meet Phil for their first training session. He’s completely fine the entire walk down there, but when he catches sight of Phil and sees him smile, Dan suddenly feels like his insides have been replaced by half a dozen tiny, fluttering birds.

“I should've tried to book the pitch for the weekend, shouldn't I,” Phil says, eyeing Dan worriedly, when he yawns as he pulls his school broom of choice out of the shed (the only one of the old Cleansweeps that doesn’t judder if he tries to go fast). “Mid-week practices are always killer.”

“Nah, it’s ok,” Dan reassures him, pushing the endless list of incomplete homework assignments to the back of his mind for the moment. “We've got to start at some point, right?”

The school Quidditch balls are locked up when they’re not being used in matches, but Phil’s managed to get an old ball from somewhere, made of shiny patched leather that slips out of Dan’s hands when he holds it. It’s the weirdest ball he’s ever seen.

“It’s a football,” Phil explains, smiling at Dan's bemused expression. “Borrowed it off someone in my dormitory.”

Dan looks down at the ball in his hands, doubtfully.

“It’s heavier than a quaffle,” He says.

Phil nods.

“If you start with a heavier ball you’ll get used to putting more power behind your passes,” He says, knowledgeably. “More power means the ball goes further.” Then, suddenly bashful, he adds, “I mean, that’s how I used to practice at home.”

“Hey,” Dan says, grinning. “Who am I to argue with a Quidditch Captain? If you say it works then it works.”

“Shut up about the whole Quidditch Captain thing,” Phil says, sounding almost embarrassed.

“Why?” Dan says, laughing a little at the look on Phil's face. “I thought you weren’t gonna go easy on me?”

“I’m not,” Phil says, mounting his broom. “Come on, we can start with some passes.”

Which would be fine, except Dan’s awful at passing.

“It’s ok,” Phil says, after he’s used a Summoning Charm to retrieve the football for what must be the tenth time. “You’re overthinking it. I’m not gonna hit you in the face, I promise. Just, like, relax your shoulders, ok, and…let’s just treat it like a game of catch.”

“Right,” Dan says, witheringly. “Because that’s not humiliating at all.”

“It’s not,” Phil says, simply. “Who is there to be humiliated in front of? It’s just me.”

Dan bites back his instinctive response, which is something about how if anything it’s _more_ humiliating making an idiot of himself in front of Phil than anyone else.

“I just…I feel stupid,” Dan says in the end, which isn’t just it at all. He’s also kind of nervous about taking both hands off the handle of his broom, but he doesn’t want Phil to look any more pitying than he already does.

“You’ll feel less stupid after we’ve practiced some more,” Phil says, gently. “I promise?”

Dan sighs, adjusts his position on his broom, then takes his hands off the handle. His heart lurches a little in his chest, but he just focuses on looking at Phil rather than how high up they are, and after a moment he feels better. Not exactly confident, but not exactly flat-out terrified, either.

“Alright,” He says, flattening his hair down and holding on tight to the broom with his knees. “Alright, I’m ready.”

-

As practices go, it’s nowhere near as abysmal as the Gryffindor one. Dan doesn’t think there’s any way it could’ve been, unless he’d accidentally set Phil on fire or something. They’d passed the ball back and forth until Dan’s hands were stinging a little with the cold and he’d started wincing every time the ball hit them – at which point Phil had tugged off his keeper’s gloves and started insisting that Dan wear them instead.

“No, it’s ok,” Dan had said. “It might be colder than this during actual matches, right? And chasers don’t wear gloves.”

“Chasers don’t throw footballs, either,” Phil had said, frowning, still holding out the gloves.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Dan had insisted. Phil still looked a little worried as he withdrew his hand, so Dan added, “If I feel like my fingers are gonna drop off I’ll let you know, alright?”

Phil had looked doubtful, but they’d carried on practicing anyway. Even when they actually moved over to the goal hoops to try some shooting it wasn’t as bad as Dan thought it’d be. He missed loads of times (mainly because Phil flitted between hoops faster than Dan could blink, almost as though he knew which direction Dan was gonna shoot in before Dan even decided himself) but he’d actually scored twice, which was a way better record than during the group practice.

“You just need to think smaller, that’s all,” Phil says encouragingly when they’re resting for a moment before getting changed, sitting on the bottommost row of seats in the stands. Dan’s kind of fascinated with how the breeze is ruffling Phil's hair. “There’s three hoops, right? That’s three chances to score in one.” When Dan pulls a face, Phil adds, “Hey, shut up, all you’ve proved today is that all your worrying is for nothing, right? You’re a good player.”

“Whatever,” Dan says, even though he’s still buzzing a little after his two goals. “I can’t fly like you, you’re like – you make it look easy, you know? Like you’re meant to be up there.”

“Mm,” Phil says vaguely, like it’d kill him to just accept a compliment. “You know for ages my mum didn’t actually believe I was good at it? She was all like, _no way_.”

“What?” Dan thinks of the handful of times he’s seen Phil’s mum, usually waiting by the barrier for Platform Nine and Three Quarters at the end of summer term, Phil trying to fend off her hugs, red-faced, while his dad laughs at the pair of them. “Really?”

Phil grins and says, “Not in a mean way, or anything, just she knows I’m not…coordinated.”

Dan can’t help but snort at that, because Phil’s never said a truer thing in his life.

“No kidding.”

“Shut up,” Phil says, but he’s almost laughing too. “Honestly, if you’d told me in first year that I’d end up Quidditch Captain, I’d have laughed in your face.”

Dan thinks about a first year version of Phil. Much to Phil’s horror, he’s seen a photo – PJ’s got loads, and Dan caught him showing them to Louise last year and insisted on seeing too. The main one that sticks in his mind had been one of Phil and PJ together, sitting side by side on a sofa, probably in the Hufflepuff common room. Phil’s so small and unlike himself in it, Dan had been about to ask who was with PJ in the photo until the little photo-image smiled widely, the two boys jostling each other, and Dan had realised who he was actually looking at.

(“You used to be _ginger_ ,” Dan had made sure to say to Phil the next time he saw him. Phil had gone bright red and covered his face with his hands, which only served to make Dan laugh and shuffle right up next to him to nudge him in the ribs. “Why didn’t you tell me? Oh my _God_ , Phil.”

“I wasn’t ginger,” Phil had said, uncovering his face and shoving Dan a little, smile small and embarrassed. “It was a dye accident, ok? I’m gonna kill PJ,” He'd added, when Dan just laughed again.

“You were ginger,” Dan had said after a moment. “This is honestly the best day ever.”

“I hate you,” Phil had said, avoiding Dan’s eye, but he only managed to keep it up for a few seconds before they looked at each other and both burst out laughing.)

“Sorry, sorry,” He says when he realises he’s been quiet for way too long. “Sorry, I was just thinking of tiny ginger Phil.”

“When are you ever gonna let that go?” Phil groans. “You’re ruining my secret identity.”

“What secret identity?” Dan teases. “Nobody as pale as you actually has hair that colour naturally, Phil, except, like, vampires.”

“I’m officially not talking to you anymore,” Phil says, getting to his feet. Then he looks back at Dan and grins. “Come on, we should get inside, your fingers are turning blue.”

“No they’re not,” Dan protests, standing up too. He grabs his broom and follows Phil across the row and down to the pitch, trying not to overthink Phil’s weird investment in the temperature of Dan’s hands. Louise would almost definitely be as worried about him having cold hands as Phil is – it’s just him being a good friend, that’s all.

-

It's not like Dan expected OWL year to be a picnic, but he didn't expect it to be quite as bad as this. When he gets back to the Gryffindor common room after practice, his cold fingers still stinging in the warm air, he finds Louise making a list of all of their recent assignments by the fire.

“So that's Charms,” She says when he sits down. “Practicing Vanishing spells for Transfiguration, study the theory of Calming Draughts for Potions – then I've got Divination homework -”

“I've got Ancient Runes, don't worry,” Dan tells her, glumly, remembering.

Louise gives him a sympathetic look before she turns back to her list.

“And that's all got to be done before Friday,” She says, sighing. Pushing the list onto a nearby table, she leans back in the armchair and yawns. Dan ends up yawning too, scrubbing at his eyes when they water. “Oh – you had your practice with Phil, right? How did it go?”

Dan just nods. When Louise raises her eyebrows, waiting, he says, “Good. I scored a couple of times.”

“That's great,” Louise says, beaming at him, even though they both know it'll take more than two measly goals for them to win the cup.

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. He wants to say something else to her – something about the whole thing with Phil and the gloves and his worried frown, but he doesn't know how to say it without it sounding weird, so he decides to change the subject. “D'you want to get started on that Charms essay then?”

Louise pulls a face and slouches in her chair.

“I don't want to,” She says.

“But we have to,” Dan says, with a sigh. “I'll go and get my bag.”

-

Between practice with Phil and spending half his life in the library completing increasingly more complicated essays, Halloween nearly passes Dan by altogether. He only realises what date it is when he's sitting opposite Louise and Zoe at breakfast, who are deep in conversation, and he notices that the bits of Louise's hair that are usually pink are orange.

“Oh,” He ends up saying, stupidly. “It's Halloween.”

“Damn straight,” Jack says, sitting down next to him. Dean sits down on his other side, reaching across him for the bacon. “Not long to go now 'til Quidditch starts. Practice on Sunday, remember?”

“Earlier than usual 'cause Ravenclaw have the pitch booked for nine,” Dean informs him. Dan watches him stacking bacon and toast and ketchup in some multiple-tier sandwich that he passes over Dan to Jack, before making another for himself.

“You guys could've just sat next to each other, you know,” Dan tells them, when Jack reaches across Dan to pass Dean a cup of coffee.

“We know,” Jack says, around a mouthful of his enormous sandwich.

“It's the pincer movement,” Zoe says, helpfully. “Trying to get you from both sides.”

Dean tries to say something with his mouth full that sounds suspiciously like _that's what she said_ , and Dan snorts into his coffee. He's just wiping it off his chin when he spots Phil edging along the Hufflepuff table, pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes. When he catches Dan's eye, he smiles and waves, and Dan waves back, hoping the fact that he's dribbling coffee isn't too noticeable.

He's about to carry on drinking his coffee when Jack nudges him in the arm.

“Oh my God,” He says, when more coffee drips out of his mug and onto his plate of toast.

“So,” Jack says, ignoring him. “How's training with Phil going?”

Dan stares at him. He doesn't seem angry, just curious – or as curious as someone can seem with a mouthful of bacon. He looks over at Louise, who seems to be finding her glass of orange juice very interesting all of a sudden.

“Fine,” Dan says, vaguely.

“Good,” Jack says, thickly, getting toast crumbs on Dan's arm. He swallows, takes a slurp of coffee, and adds, “Honestly, it shows initiative, you getting extra practices in.”

“Phil's chaser strategy's always been pretty much perfect,” Dean says, thoughtfully, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “Remember last year? They all had reverse passing completely down. I'd need mirrors strapped to my shoulders to even attempt that without, like, breaking someone's nose.” He raises his eyebrows at Dan pointedly.

“Oh my God,” Dan says, frustratedly, smiling without meaning to. “When are you gonna let that go?”

“When it stops being hilarious,” Dean says. He pauses for a second, then adds, “Hey, Jack?”

“We're not strapping mirrors to our shoulders,” Jack says, decisively.

“Just in practices,” Dean says.

“The last thing we need is you lot getting too dependent on mirrors,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. “Or for it to get back to certain Quidditch Captains that we even discussed this.”

Dan's drinking what's left of his coffee when Jack says that, so it takes him a moment to realise that it was directed at him.

“What?” He says. “Oh my God, I'd never tell Phil anything about our practices.” Dan squirms a little at how untrue that is, and Jack raises his eyebrows. “You just said you thought I was showing initiative for having extra practices and now you're giving me shit for it?”

“No,” Jack huffs. “You training with Phil is fine, he's brilliant. But he doesn't need to know, like, top secret Gryffindor practice stuff, ok?”

“Right,” Dan says, witheringly, putting his empty cup down. “I'll be sure not to tell him that we're _not_ gonna strap mirrors to ourselves. God knows what he'd do with that extremely valuable information.”

-

“I'd never pass secrets to Phil like that,” Dan tells Louise, ten minutes later. They left breakfast early because Dan felt like his final statement to Jack was worthy of nothing less than a self-righteous walk out of the Great Hall, and Louise had hurried along after him a few minutes later. Dan might be regretting his decision a little now that they're huddled outside the dungeon where they have Potions, breath misting a little in the cold air. Louise has put a scarf and hat on. “I know what team I'm on. Not that I want to be on the team, but I know, alright?”

“I know,” Louise says, soothingly, voice a little muffled behind her scarf.

“And, like,” Dan doesn't know why this is bothering him so much. Maybe it's because he'd lied – he has told Phil about practices. But who else is he supposed to tell? Dan loves Louise, but she doesn't love Quidditch. And he can't tell Zoe or Alfie because the last thing he needs is anyone on the team knowing how worried he is about playing. “The idea, that, like – Phil offered to help me because he's my friend, right? Not because he's trying to get secrets about Jack's strategy out of me. Which, by the way, I couldn't give anyway because I barely understand his strategy myself, it's all wiggly lines.”

It's not lost on Dan that he sounds a little more worried about the thought of Phil using him to find out about the Gryffindor team than he'd thought he was. It's not lost on Louise, either – her eyes soften over her scarf, and she links arms with him.

“Phil wouldn't do that to you,” She tells him. “You know he wouldn't.”

“I know,” Dan says, lamely, feeling hot with embarrassment, as though Louise knows more than she's saying.

As if she knows what he's thinking, Louise squeezes his arm and huddles closer to him, like they're both penguins in the cold corridor.

-

“Jenny’s staring at you again,” Louise says a little while later, not looking up from her pestle and mortar.

“No she’s not,” Dan says, feeling himself flush. He loses count of the number of times he’s stirred his potion, and swears under his breath. “What was it, four counter clockwise stirs?”

“And one clockwise,” Louise says, after a moment of peering at her textbook through the steamy fug of the dungeon.

“Shit,” Dan mutters. He starts the stirs from the beginning, figuring that the damage to the potion has already been done. He’s just set his spoon down and picked up his ground beetle eyes to add when Zoe slides by their desk on the pretext of going to the supply cupboard.

“Jenny’s staring at you again,” She mutters as she passes.

“Oh my God,” Dan says. When he looks to Louise for support, she’s smothering a laugh in the sleeve of her robes. “Oh my God, I hate you. She isn’t staring at me,” He adds in a hiss as Zoe approaches their table again.

Zoe just raises her eyebrows at him and goes back to her own table. Sighing, Dan looks down at the powder of his beetle eyes, and then turns to look across the dungeon, trying to stretch at the same time so it doesn’t look like he’s staring back.

Sure enough, Jenny’s looking in his direction. When his eyes accidentally alight on her and he smiles instinctively, she flushes and knocks her spoon where it’s resting on the rim of her cauldron, and the handle falls into the potion.

“Oh my God,” Dan mutters, tearing his gaze away and shoving his beetle eyes into the cauldron. He stirs the potion blindly, not paying attention, and it’s only when Louise says, “Dan it’s only _three_ clockwise stirs after the beetle eyes,” that he stops.

Louise is giving him a knowing look.

“Ok, so she’s staring,” He says. “And she just dropped her spoon in her cauldron.”

Louise snorts with laughter.

“You’re just so _distracting_ , Dan,” She says, in this mock-adoring voice that makes him laugh too.

“Shut _up_.”

“Maybe it’s your dreamy eyes.”

“Definitely,” Dan says, deadpan, rolling his eyes and smiling down at his potion ingredients. His are a total shambles – he looks over at Louise’s, all lined up perfectly. She’s even done that thing where she numbers them according to when they have to be added to the cauldron, little scraps of parchment covered in her neat handwriting. “I hate Potions.”

“I know,” Louise says. He watches her gently dragging her spoon over the surface of her potion. He doesn’t need to check his textbook to know that the shade of pale green it’s turning is exactly right. When she catches him looking, she seems embarrassed. “’Agitate the surface’,” She says, rolling her eyes. “Where do they get this stuff? _Agitate_.”

“It’s working,” He points out. His own potion is a murky brown colour. “Have you decided whether to carry on doing it at NEWT level yet?”

“I have to get an E first,” Louise says, doubtfully, like she didn’t just make a perfect potion.

“Oh my God, shut up,” Dan says. “You’ll get an O in about half a second.”

Louise pulls a face.

“It’ll be weird having Potions without you,” She says. “Anyway, we’re not talking about NEWTs, we’re talking about your not-so-secret admirer.”

“No, we’re really not,” Dan says.

“Ok, we’re not,” Louise says, but when he looks at her she waggles her eyebrows. “Dan-“

“No,” Dan says, and throws the nearest ingredient into his cauldron just to avoid the conversation.

-

Five minutes later, Dan’s doing his level best to pretend he’s part of the stone wall of the corridor he’s walking down.

“Cheers, Dan,” Someone Dan doesn’t even recognise slaps him on the back as he passes.

“Yeah, honestly, thanks, I was dying in there,” Someone else says, barely suppressing a laugh.

Dan kind of wants the floor to swallow him whole.

“I didn’t know it was gonna do that,” He says to Louise for the tenth time.

“I know,” Louise says. He strongly suspects she’s trying not to laugh, too, a suspicion only confirmed when Alfie and Zoe join them, Alfie jostling Dan’s shoulder and laughing.

“That was amazing,” He says. “You’re a legend.”

“I didn’t know it was gonna do that!” Dan says again, feeling his face flush hot. How was he supposed to know that if he added the dried silverfish scales _without due care and attention_ it’d make his stupid potion belch out clouds of thick, black smoke? “God, I hate Potions.”

“At least you didn’t get detention,” Zoe reminds him.

“And we got to leave early because of the toxic smoke,” Alfie says, grinning and nudging him again. “I-“

“Hi,” Jenny appears seemingly out of nowhere, loitering in the corridor up ahead, her blonde friend hanging back a little. “Um, Dan, can I – could I speak to you for a minute?”

Dan feels his face prickle hot with embarrassment. Jenny’s a little red in the face and she keeps catching his eye and then looking away, nervously.

“Sure,” Dan says.

He catches Louise’s eye and tries to tell her he’ll see her in the library without actually moving his lips, but she just raises her eyebrows at him and grins, so he doesn’t know if she got it. He follows Jenny down the corridor a little, away from her friend, and winces when Zoe, Alfie and Louise start laughing like little kids as soon as they walk away. Dan has the worst friends, he swears to God.

“This isn’t about the poisonous smoke cloud, is it?” He asks, nervously, when Jenny doesn’t say anything straight away. “You’re not allergic to black smoke are you?”

Jenny laughs and says, “No. Um. That was brilliant, though.”

“Thanks,” Dan says, awkwardly.

“Um,” Jenny says. He watches her fiddling with the sleeve of her robes. “Um, so, d’you want to come to Hogsmeade with me next week?”

Dan blinks. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been that.

“Er,” He says.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” She says, in a rush. “But we could go to the Three Broomsticks, or something? That might be nice? I don’t know. God, this was a stupid idea-“

“No, no,” Dan says, because she looks like she’s about to run away from him. “No, I mean – yeah, that’d be nice.”

Jenny blinks at him.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Dan says. Then, with a little more conviction, he adds, “Yeah, sure.”

-

Dan ends up telling Louise about it all between the shelves in the library. They’re waiting for a group of first years to give up their table, but they’re taking an age to leave. Dan wants to go over there and intimidate them into going but Louise tells him not to be mean.

“So instead we’re gonna stare at them through the bookshelves like massive creepers until they leave,” Dan mutters. “Yeah, that’s so much better.”

Louise ignores him and says, “Tell me more about your big date.”

Dan leans forwards until his forehead’s resting on the cool wood of the nearest bookshelf.

“It’s not a big date,” He says. “It’s not even a small date.”

“It is a date, though,” Louise says. She’s quiet for a moment, and Dan keeps his eyes closed, breathing in the musty smell of old books. “You could’ve said no, y’know.”

Dan turns to look at her.

“Would you have said no in that situation?”

Louise hesitates. “No,” She says. “But maybe it’s better to say no and get the difficult bit out of the way before you actually have to go on the date.”

“Too late for that,” Dan says, sighing.

Louise rubs his arm sympathetically.

“It might be fun,” She says.

“What might be fun?” A voice says behind them, and they both turn to find Phil standing behind them, grinning. He’s wearing his glasses, like he usually is when Dan runs into him in the library. “Why are you guys lurking between the bookshelves?”

“First years,” Dan says, rolling his eyes and jerking his head back in the direction of their table. Phil moves forwards and peers through the shelves at them, his shoulder brushing against Dan’s.

“Oh,” He says. “D’you want me to go and ask them to move? I’ll say I need the table for my highly important NEWT essay writing.”

“Nah, it’s ok,” Louise says.

“Yeah,” Dan says, smiling at Phil. “Louise thinks it’d be mean if we scared them off. Anyway, what are _you_ doing lurking between the bookshelves?”

“Looking for books,” Phil says, waving a little scrap of parchment at them. “Which is the reason why most normal people lurk between bookshelves.”

Dan takes the scrap of parchment off him and reads aloud, “’The history of attempted domestication of outlawed breeds, with particular reference to the handling of illegal dragons and the Warlock’s Convention of 1709’ – nope, nope, you’ve lost me, that’s gross.”

“It’s interesting,” Phil protests, snatching the parchment back. “You’ve got all of this to look forward to, remember.”

“No I haven’t, because I’m not daft enough to take Care of Magical Creatures,” Dan points out, laughing when Phil nudges into him. “Ouch, hey, I nearly bashed my elbow then, I thought seventh years were supposed to be all chivalrous and shit.”

“Seventh year Gryffindors, maybe,” Phil says. “Hufflepuffs are a whole other thing. And chivalry has nothing to do with me knocking into you-”

“Table’s free,” Louise says, suddenly.

Phil stays behind at the bookshelves for a moment while Louise and Dan leap into action to get their table. It’s only when they’re sat down and Dan’s digging a bottle of ink out of his bag that he realises she’s giving him this weirdly knowing look.

“What?” He says.

She’s saved having to answer when Phil reappears, laden down with a stack of enormous books. He sets them down on the table with a thud that makes Louise’s ink bottle rattle and slides his bag off his shoulder with a sigh, taking the empty seat.

“Ugh,” He says, giving the stained cover of one of the books an uncertain prod. “I take it back, I’m not interested in outlawed breeds. I should’ve taken Muggle Studies instead, I would’ve aced it.”

“Shut up, you know you love…frolicking with unicorns, or whatever it is you do in Care of Magical Creatures,” Louise says, pulling a roll of parchment from her bag.

Dan laughs.

“When have you ever frolicked with unicorns in Care of Magical Creatures?” Phil wants to know, eyes sparkling in this way that somehow makes it difficult for Dan to keep looking at him. He looks down at the table instead, scratching his fingernail against the wood.

“I dunno,” Louise is saying, a smile in her voice. “Maybe it’s different at NEWT level.”

“No,” Phil says. “It’s all unicorn protection and harvesting horns and all that. Conservation, or whatever.” He pauses. “D’you ever think about why it’s called Care of Magical Creatures?”

“I can honestly say I don’t,” Dan says, already half-smiling again.

“Because surely the _magical_ part is fairly obvious already,” Phil says. He’s making weird little shapes on the table with his hands as he talks, and Dan’s eyes keep catching on his pale fingers. “Like, it’s not gonna be looking after kittens, or anything, is it? Because then it’d be, like, veterinary class, or whatever. So it should just be Care of _Creatures_ , right?”

“Veterinary what?” Louise asks. She looks at Dan, but he’s got no idea either.

“It’s like – it’s like an animal doctor,” Phil explains, when he realises how clueless they are. “You guys know what doctors are, right?”

“Those weird muggles who cut your legs off?” Dan suggests, remembering a horror story he’d read about them a while back.

“Oh my God,” Phil says. “No, they’re like – they’re like healers, right? And a vet is like a healer but for animals.”

“Oh,” Louise and Dan say.

“Muggle Studies,” Phil says to himself. “Should’ve taken Muggle Studies.”

Dan’s about to say something about how surely he’d be bored to death in Muggle Studies class what with the whole _being muggle-born_ thing, but then Zoe rushes over to them, sitting in the empty seat next to Phil.

“Hi,” She says. Dan thinks he knows what’s coming, especially when she gives him this look that’s all wide eyes and kind of manic smile. “So.”

“Can we not, please,” Dan says, groaning. “Please, we’re just doing work – Phil’s doing NEWT work, really important, dragon breeding or something-“

“I actually haven’t started yet,” Phil says, unhelpfully.

“Exactly,” Zoe says, waggling her eyebrows at him. “So we can all hear about you and Jenny.”

“She just – I don’t want to talk about it,” Dan says, feeling his face heat. He stares down at the wood of the table again. Somehow the whole thing is even more mortifying when Phil’s sitting right there.

It gets worse when Zoe starts explaining for Phil’s benefit.

“She’s this really pretty Slytherin in our Potions class,” She says. “And she’s been staring at Dan for weeks, honestly. And then today after class she was all, like, _can I talk to you_ , and-“

“And we’re going to Hogsmeade,” Dan says, in a rush, trying to get it over with. “That’s it, it’s not even a big deal.”

“Not _yet_ ,” Zoe says, meaningfully. “I’m so glad you said yes, she’s so nice…”

But Dan isn’t listening, because Phil’s getting to his feet, avoiding Dan’s eye and shouldering his bag again like he didn’t just sit down.

“Aw, are you going?” Louise asks, as Phil struggles to lift his enormous pile of books. “I thought we could walk down to the feast together.”

“I just,” Phil’s so weirdly jittery all of a sudden, eyes darting between Louise and Zoe, avoiding looking at Dan completely. “I just remembered I said I’d meet PJ, um. I should…He’ll be wondering where I am.” And he walks off, disappearing around the corner of the nearest bookshelf as quickly as his hefty pile of books will allow.

Dan stares after him for a moment, then looks at the table again, digging the point of his quill into the wood viciously.

“Zoe,” A voice hisses, and Alfie edges out from behind another bookshelf. “Did you already ask him about Jenny?”

“Oh my God,” Zoe says, flushing pink for some reason. She waves both hands at him, frantically, like she’s trying to waft him away, before turning back to Dan and Louise and giving them a sheepish smile. “I should go, we’re gonna, um, write that Transfiguration essay.”

And she hurries off with Alfie, the two of them jostling each other and laughing.

“We don’t have a Transfiguration essay,” Louise says, after a moment. “Do we?”

“Nope,” Dan says, without really thinking about it, still scratching at the table. Then he stops and considers. “No, actually.” Catching Louise’s eye, he adds, “Oh God, we don’t want to know what they’re really doing, do we?”

“I don't think so, no,” Louise says, shaking her head and laughing at the look on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so dissatisfied with this chapter but I'm posting it anyway (because then I don't have to worry about it #logic)
> 
> Shout out once again to the lovely Cristina, who provided cute and instant feedback to my worries <3 
> 
> And anyone who's left kudos, commented or even just enjoyed this - you're all fab, thank you <3

Dan has to set an alarm to get up for his and Phil's next practice session.

It feels like he's been so focused on the thought of Phil leaving school that the fact that this is also Phil's NEWT year kind of passed him by. Any homework Dan has (of which there's currently an ignored mountain), Phil's has to be ten times worse. Dan only really realises when PJ appears out of nowhere on Monday when Louise and Dan are waiting outside Defence Against The Dark Arts.

“Phil says the best time for the next practice is tomorrow morning,” PJ tells him, apologetically. “And he says he's sorry, but he doesn't really have any other free time. Like, you know, with NEWT work, and stuff.”

“Oh,” Dan says. He's been expecting to hear from Phil about their next practice for days, but it never occurred to him that he might just send a messenger instead of coming to find Dan himself. He hates himself a little for being so disappointed. “Oh, well, that's fine.”

“Yeah?” PJ says, uncertainly. Maybe he hadn't hidden his disappointment as well as he'd hoped.

“Yeah,” Dan says, and forces out a smile. “Tomorrow morning. I'll be there. Thanks, Peej.”

PJ smiles at him, then walks off down the corridor. Dan slouches against the wall, not wanting to look at Louise, who's standing quietly next to him.

“Well, that's ok,” Louise says, after a moment's silence. “Tomorrow, that's good – practice is good, right?”

“Yeah,” Dan says. “Yeah, it's great.”

Dan can't tell her what was bothering him, which is the fact that he hasn't spoken to Phil for days - since he left the library so abruptly at Halloween. The few times Dan’s seen him since, in corridors or across the Great Hall at mealtimes, he could swear that Phil is doing a pretty good job of pretending he doesn’t exist. Sending PJ to organise their latest practice just makes Dan even more certain that Phil's avoiding him.

It preys on his mind for the rest of the day, so much so that by the time him and Louise end up settling down on their usual sofa in the common room to get some work done, Dan ends up doing nothing more than zoning out and drawing broomsticks in the margins of The Standard Book Of Spells. By the time he decides to call it a night, he's no closer to finishing any of his assignments – or figuring out what he can do at their practice session to get Phil to stop ignoring him.

The next morning, Dan spends far too much time frowning at his reflection in the mirror he keeps in his bedside drawer. He has the hangings of his bed drawn so on the off-chance that any of the others wake up they can’t take the piss out of him for how long it’s taking him to sort his hair out for _Quidditch practice_ , of all things.

He still hasn’t managed to get the hang of that weird hairstyling charm Louise tried to teach him last month – she said Zoe read it in a magazine, but he thinks Zoe might’ve invented it herself. Whatever it is, it works perfectly for her and Louise but he always manages to mess it up somehow.

In the end, he just gives up and tugs his hangings open so he can slip his shoes on. As he heads to the Quidditch pitch he finds himself having imaginary conversations with Phil, playing out different scenarios. He imagines him and Phil yelling at each other – he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Phil get really angry before, but there’s a first time for everything.

He imagines Phil’s eyes sliding over him, Phil speaking to him in an unbearably distant way, acting as though Dan’s the last person in the world he wants to be around.

He imagines walking into the changing rooms just as Phil’s about to shrug off his t-shirt to pull on his Quidditch uniform. It flashes into his mind, unbidden – bright as a camera flash, the thought of Phil tugging his shirt up unselfconsciously, the skin of his back pale and soft looking.

He’s shaken out of his reverie when he nearly trips over Mrs Norris, who meows reproachfully at him.

“Shut up,” Dan says, feeling his face flood with uncomfortable warmth, embarrassed at himself. Mrs Norris blinks at him in that weird, contemplative way of hers. “I’m not doing anything wrong,” He adds, as though she can understand him. “I’m _not_.”

He’s not so sure, though, and he hurries off down the stairs before Filch can appear and accuse him of rule-breaking.

-

Thanks to his own stupid thoughts, he can barely look Phil in the eye when he meets him at the broom shed. Although when he does look at Phil, Phil seems to be avoiding his eye, too. Gloomily, Dan realises that maybe his second scenario (the one where Phil doesn’t want to be anywhere near him) was more truth than fantasy after all. He lags behind him on the walk back to the pitch, feeling wretched.

“I thought we could start with some drills,” Phil says, in what Dan imagines to be his best Quidditch Captain voice. “Because your passing had really improved by the end of last week, and we should keep it up.”

“Jack said that, actually,” Dan says, remembering all of a sudden. “We, uh. At the group practice on Sunday, he said my passing had improved.”

Phil actually looks at him then, faltering a little in his steps.

“Really?” He says. Then he grins at Dan, who ends up smiling back before he can help himself, the tight knot of worry deep in his stomach loosening. “That’s great, why didn’t you say anything before?” Because you’ve been pretending I don’t exist for days, Dan thinks. “I told you it was all about confidence.”

“Maybe,” Dan says. All of a sudden he feels stupid for ever worrying that he and Phil had fallen out. Maybe it was a coincidence, and he was just swamped by homework after all. How could Dan ever fall out with Phil? “Maybe it’s because I’ve got such a good teacher.”

“Nope,” Phil says. “It’s definitely confidence.”

They walk in silence for a moment, and then Dan decides to cut to the chase.

“The other day,” He says. “Um. When Zoe showed up in the library, and you left-“

“I – yeah,” Phil speeds up his steps a little, so Dan struggles to keep up. When Dan looks at him, even his neck’s gone red. “Yeah, um. Poor Peej, he had no idea where I was.”

“Yeah,” Dan says. “Well – I just.” He closes his eyes for a second, then stops walking altogether. It takes Phil a few steps to notice, and then he turns to look back at him. The golden light of the early morning glints off his hair and throws parts of him into sharp relief (knuckles on the handle of his broom, the side of his nose, his shoulder).

Sometimes when Dan looks at Phil these days he feels like he’s looking at a painting – the weird muggle ones that don’t move, the ones his mum loves so much, beautiful moments frozen in paint and time. Dan feels like he’s creating a gallery inside his mind, little moments and half seconds of Phil, storing them all up for quiet days – for days when Phil won’t be there anymore.

Sometimes when Dan looks at Phil these days he thinks maybe he’s looked at him like that all along and just never noticed before.

“The Jenny thing,” Dan says, taking an uncertain step forwards. Phil tries to speak, but Dan talks over him. “Zoe made it sound like more than it is, ok, she ambushed me outside Potions and she seems like a nice person, so, like – I couldn’t just tell her _no_. God, it was so awkward.”

“Oh,” Phil says, quietly. “Oh, ok.”

“That’s just, like,” Dan waves a hand. “That’s _it_. It’s not, like,” He feels himself flush. “It’s not a date.”

They look at each other for a moment, and then Phil adjusts his broom on his shoulder and starts walking again. Dan follows, and they walk side-by-side in silence, their shoulders bumping.

“Zoe said she was pretty,” Phil says. When Dan looks at him, he seems like he’s finding his broom handle very interesting all of a sudden.

Dan shrugs.

“I guess,” He says. “But I don’t really know her. She might be horrible.” He pauses, thinking about it. Nobody's ever asked Dan out before – the probability of it being a setup for a prank is worryingly high. “Actually that's probably it, you know? The whole thing might be a joke.”

“Dan,” Phil says, quietly. “I'm pretty sure nobody would ever ask _you_ out as a joke.”

Anything Dan might’ve been about to say gets stuck in his throat and he snaps his mouth shut. Not that Phil notices, because they’ve hit the outskirts of the Quidditch pitch and he’s rushing to mount his broom and kick off.

“Last one to the furthest goal hoops is a loser,” He calls before he flies off.

-

“Louise,” Dan says, in an undertone, looking at his own reflection. “Um. So, have you ever. Like. Er.” He squeezes his eyes shut and runs a hand through his hair, rendering the ten minutes he'd spent making sure it looked perfect absolutely pointless.

It shouldn't be difficult to tell Louise about the whole thing with Phil. It really shouldn't. Dan knows deep down that he can tell Louise anything and she won't laugh. Well, the two of them might laugh – but she won't be laughing _at_ him, she'll be laughing with him. That's one of Dan's favourite things about Louise, hands down – no matter what he's feeling she always somehow manages to make him feel like he's not alone in it.

Dan sighs, frustratedly, and looks back at his own stupidly messed up reflection. Flattening down his fringe, he tries again.

“Louise,” He says. His voice echoes a little around the boy's toilets, but he'd made sure that he was the only one in here before he started talking to himself. “Right, so you know Phil? Shit, of course she does,” He mutters, shaking his head. After a moment's pause, he tries again. “Phil's leaving, right? And I just – I know you're gonna miss him too, but I just – I just – the thought of him going's kind of driving me crazy, and, like...”

The bathroom door creaks open and a tiny first year slips in, eyeing him with great trepidation. Dan wonders if he heard him talking to himself from outside the door. He probably thinks he's crazy.

Maybe I am, Dan thinks as he makes one last attempt to flatten his hair. He can't tell Louise about the whole Phil thing. He doesn't even know what he's telling – it's like the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that'd started as soon as he'd properly realised it was Phil's last year at Hogwarts has got all mixed up with lots of other things – with Phil's eyes and his smile and the way he looks when he laughs.

The more Dan tries to pin it all down the more it becomes clear to him that being friends with Phil has always left him in this befuddling soup of emotions. It's like he's only just started to notice, that's all, and too late, because Phil's leaving. It's like all the time he's known Phil has been wasted, and what little time he has left is slipping through his fingers like sand.

Huffing at himself, he leaves the bathroom. No wonder he can't think of how to say it to Louise when it sounds so pathetic and stupid inside his own head.

-

“So,” Jack says, falling into step alongside Dan as he's walking to Charms. “Dean said Alfie told him you've got a date with Jenny Parkinson.”

Dan rolls his eyes and walks a little faster to try and lose him in the crush of students in the corridor, but to no avail.

“I wish people'd stop going on about it,” He says, scowling. “It's just a drink, that's all.”

“It's not your virtue I'm worried about,” Jack says. “You know her brother's on the Slytherin team, right?”

Dan stares at him, actually stopping walking for a moment.

“Jack.”

“I'm just saying,” Jack says, holding his hands up like Dan's pointing his wand at him.

“Right,” Dan says, irritated, as the two of them are jostled by a huge group of fourth years. Dan and Jack end up following them. “You know, when you said you needed me to be on the team I didn't think that'd involve you policing who I hang out with.”

“I'm not policing,” Jack says, all wide-eyed, like Dan's accused him of something terrible. “But come on, Dan, her _brother_. The _Slytherin_ team.”

“I thought you weren't worried about Slytherin,” Dan reminds him, recalling their last Quidditch practice pep talk. “I thought Ravenclaw were supposed to be our 'primary concern'.” He makes over-exaggerated quote marks in the air.

“They are,” Jack says. “ _Everyone's_ our primary concern. If your intel was right and we're really playing them first, then we have to wait on who wins the other match. It's more than likely to be Hufflepuff, but there's a margin of about a hundred-”

“Oh look, my classroom,” Dan says, deadpan, finally catching sight of the queue of people waiting outside Transfiguration, Louise included. “Oh no, what a shame, I really wanted to hear another Quidditch Cup match breakdown.”

“Just remember,” Jack calls, loudly, as he walks away down the corridor. Dan pretends not to hear him even though he's practically yelling and people are looking around for the source of the noise. “Everyone, ok?”

“Everyone what?” Louise asks him, failing to stifle a smile.

“God knows,” Dan grumbles. “Everyone's the enemy. Everyone's out to get me. Oh, and I shouldn't go to Hogsmeade with Jenny because her brother's on the Slytherin team.”

“Oh,” Louise says. Then, after a moment's pause in which the queue starts trailing into the classroom, she adds in an undertone, “I thought you weren't too keen on going anyway.”

“I'm not,” Dan hisses as they take their seats. He's about to explain himself further – explain that it's nothing personal against Jenny or anything, she seems like a lovely person, but the more people react weirdly to the whole thing (especially Phil, he admits to himself), the more he wishes it wasn't happening at all.

Except Professor Flitwick is already peering over the top of his desk to tell them about Cheering Charms, and Dan gratefully falls silent and digs some parchment out of his bag to take notes and avoid the conversation.

-

Not that Dan's actively looking for Phil, or anything, but he can't help but feel disappointed when it gets to dinner and there's been no sign of him all day. Dan usually sees him around somewhere, even if it's just across a crowded corridor and they don't actually get to talk, but today there's been nothing.

It's such a stupid reason to be irritated, Dan thinks as he spears a potato with his fork with unnecessary venom. It's so stupid that even if he had told Louise what he'd been trying to rehearse earlier he'd still try and keep this particular thing to himself. Not that Louise is in the Great Hall yet – Dan's Ancient Runes class had finished early. He's pretty sure there was a reason why but his brain had switched off the moment the words “you can go” had left Professor Babbling's mouth, and he'd been too busy shoving his ink bottle and notes back into his bag to care about anything else.

At least, he thinks, being early means he has a better chance of noticing when Phil shows up for dinner. Or he would, but he can already see PJ sitting by himself down at the end of the table, completely absorbed in a book. Maybe Phil's skipping dinner. Maybe he's down in the greenhouses. Maybe he's in the Hufflepuff common room. Dan idly considers going down there after dinner to try and coax him out again, but he doesn't want to become that weird Gryffindor who lurks down by the kitchens all the time.

“Ugh,” Louise says, sitting down opposite him.

“Ugh,” Zoe agrees, sitting next to her.

They both look like they've been asleep for the past hour.

“Divination?” Dan asks, sympathetically, nudging a jug of pumpkin juice in their direction.

“Yep,” Zoe says, while Louise pours them both drinks.

“I don't think I'm ever gonna see anything,” Louise says, glumly, setting the jug down and reaching for a dish of potatoes. “Not like you,” She adds, to Zoe.

“I don't know if it counts as seeing stuff,” Zoe says, modestly. Dan's heard all about her weirdly accurate predictions, even if it is stuff like _I think it'll rain next Tuesday_ or _I'm gonna find a sickle on the way to Astronomy_.

“Trelawney thinks so,” Louise says. “She's in love with you. You should hear the way she goes on about her,” She adds, to Dan.

The two of them launch into some reminiscence about crystal gazing, and Dan kind of zones out, pushing vegetables around his plate. He ends up leaving the Great Hall early, taking a short cut back to the Gryffindor common room to grab his bag and some books so he can go straight to the library.

Even for Dan there's only so long he can avoid homework before the knowledge of how much he has to do starts eating him alive.

The library’s so quiet after the buzz and chatter of the common room that Dan takes a moment in the doorway to just enjoy it – but only a moment, because Madam Pince starts shooting sharp looks over at him from where she’s dusting a stack of rune dictionaries, and it’d be just Dan’s luck to discover that loitering at the library doors is an offence punishable by detention. He hurries off into the library, losing himself amongst the bookshelves without really looking at what section he’s in.

It’s only when he finds himself automatically working his way around to his and Louise’s usual table that he stops, peering through the shelves. Someone’s _asleep_ at the table, head pillowed on an enormous spellbook, all little huffs of breath and the twitch of pale fingers.

Correction: _Phil’s_ asleep at the table. His glasses have slid down his nose and his mouth is slightly open and he looks exhausted. Dan hesitates between the shelves, not wanting to burst out of there and terrify him, but at the same time he thinks Phil might prefer to be woken up by Dan rather than by Madam Pince prodding him in the neck with her feather duster and screeching about him drooling on rare books.

Dan ends up quietly taking the seat opposite Phil’s and unpacking his Transfiguration notes, quill and ink, and then just looking at Phil, not sure what to do. Dan's wanted to see Phil all day and now part of him wishes he hadn't seen him, because he's sure he's going to end up doing something awkward and stupid. He wishes he remembered how to do a Cushioning Charm, so he could move the book and let Phil carry on sleeping.

But there’s a piece of parchment on the table next to the book, full of Phil’s handwriting, and Dan thinks that if he was mid-essay and he fell asleep he’d want someone to wake him up just so he could finish. He reaches over and screws the top back on Phil’s ink bottle, in case he flails around when he wakes up and knocks it over, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, eyes catching on the deep purple marks under his eyes, Dan reaches out and touches Phil’s hand where it’s resting on the table.

“Hey,” He says, softly. Phil makes a tiny noise but doesn’t wake up, so Dan finds himself awkwardly stroking Phil’s fingers. “Hey, Phil.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath and Phil’s blinking and spluttering, his glasses sliding down his nose. He sits up suddenly, and there’s something owl-like about the way his hair’s sticking up at the back and his wide, startled eyes that makes Dan smile.

“Oh God,” Phil says, hoarsely. “Oh God, was I – was I – “ The rest of the sentence is lost in a huge yawn that jolts his hand out from under Dan’s. Dan snatches his hand away and shoves it on his lap, clenching his fingers into a fist and feeling himself flush.

“Sorry,” Dan says, watching Phil push his glasses up to rub his eye, his other hand trying in vain to flatten down his hair. “I didn’t want to wake you up, but I just…” He shrugs.

“Rather you than Madam Pince,” Phil says. He rests his chin on his hand and blinks blearily at Dan. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Dan says, smiling at him. Phil’s answering smile is soft and sleepy and makes Dan feel curiously warm. “Are you ok?”

Phil nods and yawns again.

“Just,” He says, gesturing at the book. “NEWTs.” He stretches. “Got a Charms essay for tomorrow, and then we’re going over tropical environments again in Herbology, so I was gonna look over some old notes, and then…” He waves a hand. “Some other stuff.”

“Don’t bother with the Herbology,” Dan says, pulling a face. “If you’re doing it tomorrow there’s no point in doing extra work.”

“Mm,” Phil says, evidently unconvinced. “Anyway, what’re you doing here? Unless you just came to wake me up.”

“Transfiguration,” Dan says, rolling his eyes and gesturing at his notes. “Vanishing spells.”

“Ugh,” Phil says, pulling a face. “I hate Vanishing spells.”

“Same,” Dan says. He pauses, feeling suddenly guilty. “Look, I know you said you were fine with our training sessions, but if it means you end up, like…” He gestures at the hefty book that Phil had just been using as a pillow. “I don’t want you to exhaust yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Phil says. “The training sessions are _fine_ , honestly.”

“But this is your NEWT year,” Dan protests. “And I don’t think helping me be slightly less useless at Quidditch is worth-“

“You’re not useless at Quidditch,” Phil insists, frowning. “If you were useless I wouldn’t even bother to help you.”

“Well, fine then,” Dan says, irked, feeling like Phil’s missing the point on purpose. “If our training stops you from getting work done then we can stop, it’s not important.”

Phil’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “It is important.”

They were speaking so quietly anyway because of where they are, but Phil’s words had barely been a breath then. It’s such an innocuous comment, but there’s something about the way Phil looks when he’d spoken that makes Dan feel strange and hot. He tears his eyes away from Phil and looks down at the safety of his Transfiguration notes instead.

“Fine,” Dan says, pulling the nearest piece of parchment closer to him and pretending to squint at his handwriting. “Well, as long as you're ok with it.”

“I am,” Phil says. Dan thinks maybe Phil's looking at him, but he's too busy staring at his notes without really seeing them. By the time he's unscrewing his ink bottle, Phil's bustling around with his own parchment.

They work in silence for a little while. Dan likes moments like this, precisely because they happen so rarely – just him and Phil, alone, without the pressure of anyone else's company. That startles him a little to think of – the thought that having other people around is a chore when having Phil around isn't.

After a while, Dan finds himself sneaking glances at Phil across the table more often than he'd like, considering he's trying to explain the theory behind Vanishing spells. There's just something about Phil's frown of concentration behind his glasses and the way his mouth moves silently as he reads through his work that makes it difficult for Dan to focus on his own parchment.

It's only when Phil happens to glance up and catch his eye that Dan realises that rather than glancing at Phil he's been openly staring.

“D'you wanna swap?” Dan says hurriedly, panicking a little. “I'll read through your essay and you can, er,” He looks down at his own work, full of scribbles and crossings out. “You can, er, laugh at how shit I am at Transfiguration?”

Phil rolls his eyes at him.

“You're not shit,” He says, reaching out to take Dan's parchment, pushing his own across the table at the same time. “D'you want me to fix where you've crossed stuff out?”

“That'd be awesome, yeah,” Dan says, scanning Phil's essay. He's just about to remind Phil that he's only good for grammar corrections when Phil speaks.

“Have you thought about what you're gonna wear on your date?” He asks, casually, prodding at Dan's parchment with his wand.

“Clothes,” Dan says, dryly.

Phil laughs.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

Dan sighs.

“I dunno,” He says. Then, because it's Phil, and he's never really kept anything from him, he adds, “I'm getting kind of sick of talking about it, to be honest. Not,” He continues, quickly, when Phil looks worried. “Not because of you, like, you mentioning it is fine, it's just – everyone seems to be making this big deal out of it, like – like Zoe, and Jack, and I just – ugh, I dunno.”

Phil's quiet for a moment. Then he says, “If you don't feel like it's a big deal, then that's the most important thing. I mean, I – like, how _you_ feel is the important thing. That's – sorry, I don't even know what that meant.”

Dan smiles at him.

“No, you're right,” He says. “I'm just being stupid, that's all.” He pauses, idly drawing a swirl on the corner of his Transfiguration notes. “Doesn't help when Jack's all like, _her brother's on the Slytherin team, watch your back_ , or whatever.”

Phil snorts.

“Maybe I'm doing this Captain thing wrong,” He says. “One of our chasers is obsessed with the Slytherin Keeper. You know, the guy with the,” He gestures vaguely at his head, and Dan knows which player he means immediately.

“The curly haired guy.”

“Yeah,” Phil says, grinning. “She never shuts up about him. Maybe I should give her a talk about fraternising with the enemy.”

“No, don't,” Dan says, laughing. “You're fine as you are without taking tips off Jack, trust me.” He pauses, coughs a little awkwardly, then continues, “He won't shut up about strategies and points margins and all that stuff either, like _I_ know what any of it means.”

“Ah, no, that's different,” Phil says. “Strategies are important, I understand him there. Does he do the-?” Phil wiggles his finger, vaguely, but Dan gets it.

“The coloured arrows!” He says. Phil laughs, and Dan can't believe him. “Oh my God, I thought you were on my side but _you_ do the coloured arrow thing too, don't you? You're one of _them_.”

“It's the best way to convey complex formations,” Phil says, trying to hide his smile behind his hand.

“Bullshit,” Dan says.

“It is,” Phil insists. “It's good when you can see a plan, it's like playing chess.”

“If you say so,” Dan says. Phil smiles at him and goes back to fixing Dan's homework. “What's your strategy for if we have to play against each other?”

Dan doesn't know what makes him say it, but for some reason the thought of him being another incomprehensible arrow in Phil's Quidditch Cup strategy makes him feel uncomfortable.

Phil blinks at him, surprised.

“What?”

“I just mean,” Dan's seriously regretting saying anything already. “Like, you must've thought about what'll happen if you guys play Gryffindor, right?”

“A little,” Phil says, cautiously.

“I'm not,” Dan backpedals. “I'm not trying to, like, find out your strategy or anything, I was just curious. I mean, we're friends. Plus the last time we played against each other I broke my leg.”

"Which isn't gonna happen this time," Phil says, firmly, as though he can just will things into being true just by saying them. Then, looking thoughtful, he adds, “I've got some ideas about Gryffindor, but.” He flushes a little, looking down at the table. “When it comes to _you_ I never really know what I'm doing.”

“Oh,” Dan says, his heart giving a little kick of surprise in his chest. “Oh, well. I mean. Same.” He cringes at how stupid he sounds. “With you, I mean, not just with – Quidditch strategies in general.”

It's such a vague declaration, but Dan face feels like it's prickling and his palms are damp.

“Oh,” Phil says, softly.

Dan just looks at him for a moment – the way he's been doing all evening, except this time Phil's looking right back at him. Dan feels like he should be intimidated or scared – and maybe he is, maybe he's terrified, but each place Phil's eyes alight feels as heavy and warm as if Phil was reaching out to touch him.

Dan's about to do something – what, he isn't sure – when a voice says, “Oh, good, you got our table.”

It's Louise. Of course it's Louise. Dan's in such a hurry to make it seem like he was hard at work that he nearly spills his ink everywhere. Phil's exactly the same, flipping furiously through his spellbook, a little red in the face.

“I just saw Jack,” Louise is saying, dragging one of the spare chairs around so she can sit between Dan and Phil. “He said something about points or bludgers or something, I wasn't really listening. I told him you'd gone to bed, Dan.”

“Right,” Dan says, feeling dazed. He watches Louise unpacking her notes (all neatly paperclipped together). When he glances at Phil, Phil catches his eye for all of half a second before his gaze skitters away, nervously, the colour still high in his cheeks. “Thanks.”

“Sorry?” Louise says, distractedly, and then smiles at him. “Oh, no problem.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know why I worry about this fic so much. It's like my smol child. Be free, smol child
> 
> This one's for Eni, who's lovely, and Alice, who's sleepy (but also lovely <3)
> 
> Also thanks so much to anyone who's left kudos, commented or even just read this. Knowing people are liking my self-indulgent nonsense really makes me happy. Thank you <3

“It'll be fine,” Louise says.

“Ugh.”

“ _Fine_ ,” She repeats, firmly.

“Ugh,” Dan says again, just because he knows it'll make her smile.

He zones out for a moment, watching Louise applying lip balm in her pocket mirror. The common room's full of people performing similar last minute preparations to go into the village. Across the room, a fourth year is curling strands of hair around her wand, which seems to be emitting steam. If Dan hadn't seen Louise do the exact same thing a million times before, he'd be amazed. Maybe the fourth year's got a date, he thinks.

So do you, a little voice in the back of Dan's head pipes up, and you spent more time making yourself look good when you were getting ready for Quidditch practice with Phil the other day.

He ignores it.

“It's alright for you,” He tells Louise, glumly. “You get to do whatever you want all morning.”

“I'll tell Phil you said hi,” Louise says, closing her compact mirror with a snap. Because of course, Louise is meeting up with Phil and PJ in Hogsmeade. Dan thinks wistfully of how much he'd be looking forward to this stupid trip if that was what _he_ had ahead of him. “Oh Dan, come on, at least _try_ and smile before you go down to meet her.”

“I am smiling,” Dan says. “I'm full of smiles. She's gonna be bowled over by how much I'm smiling.”

Louise gives him a look.

Dan sighs, slouching his shoulders.

“Ok, ok,” He says. “I know, it's not Jenny's fault, I'm just – I'm not _trying_ to be a dick, I just-”

“It's nerves,” Louise says, touching his arm. “Which is fine. Everyone gets nervous about stuff like this.”

Dan nods, not trusting himself to say anything that isn't sarcastic. The truth of the matter is that he _is_ nervous. He just hadn't realised until he'd been lying wide-eyed awake in bed the previous night, listening to the snores and sleep-noises of the others.

He's been so busy all week being annoyed with everyone else for making a big deal out of it, and worried about OWLs, and Quidditch – not to mention the whole thing with Phil, which has been buzzing around in his head for days upon end like a particularly large and noisy fly – that it took the quiet of his dormitory in the middle of the night for the fear about the date to crash in on him.

He doesn't know Jenny, at all. Of course he knows her by sight, the same way he knows all the other fifth years vaguely when he sees them around, but that's it.

Dan's basically agreed to spend a whole morning with a near-stranger, and if there's one thing Dan struggles to deal with it's meeting strangers. Especially without making an idiot of himself.

-

Louise ends up setting off from the common room fifteen minutes before Dan, because that's what they'd agreed when he found out her and Phil and PJ were going into the village. The last thing he wants is to be around Jenny and Phil at the same time – just the thought makes him cringe – so Louise had promised to meet Phil and PJ early to avoid any awkward overlapping.

This had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it means that Dan's walk down to the Entrance Hall is a lonely one. He ends up loitering by the house point hourglasses, simultaneously checking his watch and trying to blend seamlessly into the stone wall behind him, hoping against hope that none of the students milling around and chattering pay him any attention.

It doesn't work. Dan's checking his watch for what feels like the hundredth time when he sees Dean slipping out of the Great Hall and heading in his direction.

“Oh, it's your turn, is it?” Dan says, irritably, when he gets close enough. “Jack sent you, didn't he?” He sighs. “I know her brother's on the Slytherin team, ok, and I'm not gonna let slip any Gryffindor secrets over one measly drink.”

“Jack didn't send me,” Dean says, after a moment's silence. “Although he did say something about advising you to keep an eye on your drink at all times in case she slips Veritaserum in it-”

“Jesus,” Dan says.

“I know,” Dean says, almost apologetically. They're quiet for a moment. Dan checks his watch, wondering why Jenny's taking so long.

“Are you waiting for someone too?” Dan asks, when Dean doesn't make any attempt to say anything.

Dean shrugs.

“Might just head to the library,” He says. “Got tons of homework.”

“Oh,” Dan says, frowning. He checks his watch again, then glances back to the marble staircase.

“No point looking up there,” Dean tells him. “Slytherin common room's down in the dungeons, isn't it?”

“Is it?”

Dean nods.

“I fancied this Slytherin girl when I was in third year,” He explains. “Used to walk her back there after class.”

“Smooth,” Dan says, grinning at him.

“I thought so,” Dean says. Then, after another moment's silence, he sighs and says, “Look, Dan-”

“Oh _God_ ,” Dan groans. “I thought you said Jack _didn't_ send you.”

“He didn't,” Dean says. “I'm just – look, it's none of my business, but...I know what it looks like when someone's going on a date with the wrong person.” He shrugs. “That's all.”

Dan feels uncomfortably hot all of a sudden.

“I,” He doesn't know what to say. Dean's just watching the steady stream of students heading out of the Entrance Hall doors, as though this is a normal conversation to have of a Saturday morning. “I – have you been talking to Louise?”

“I haven't been talking to anyone,” Dean says, with a shrug. “I just notice things.”

“Right,” Dan says. As if on cue, Jenny walks over to the two of them, smiling and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I'll just – library,” Dean says, and walks off. Dan frowns after him as he walks up the marble staircase, wondering what the hell just happened.

“Are you ok?” Jenny asks. She looks very pretty – Zoe was right, Dan realises. Her hair's smooth and impressively shiny, and he wonders what she's done to it to make it look like that, and if it'd be weird if he asked her. “What was that about?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Dan says. His voice sounds awkward and rehearsed to his own ears, and he coughs as though that'll help and adds, “Should we go?”

-

It's not a _bad_ morning, Dan thinks. The walk into the village is a little awkward at first, but then Dan makes some comment about Quidditch (ignoring the little voice that sounds a little like Jack in the back of his head telling him to change the subject immediately) and it turns out Jenny isn't all that good at playing either.

“But I want to,” She says. “Like, you see other people play and they're really good, and you want to be like them but you're...shit.” She laughs, and Dan smiles at her.

“Same, honestly,” He says, with feeling. “I mean, you should see -” He stops, mid sentence, because he'd been about to talk about Phil. It doesn't feel right to mention him, for some reason. “Like, some people I've seen,” He finishes, lamely. “And they look like professionals and I'm like some idiot playing catch.”

“No you're not,” Jenny says. When he looks over at her, she's flushing a little. “I, erm. I mean, you made the team, right? So you can't be that bad.”

“Mm,” Dan says, non-committal. “I don't think I've got a bright future playing for England ahead of me, though.”

The morning ( _morning_ , Dan thinks, he's not going to think of it as a _date_ ) continues in a similar vein. The Three Broomsticks is full of the chatter of other Hogwarts students when they arrive, and Dan volunteers to get their drinks in the hopes that a few moments alone will stop him panicking.

When they're settled at a table, they just talk. It's a little stilted sometimes, but Dan reasons that they don't know each other all that well. It's just...it's not a date.

Jenny's kind, and she's friendly, and Dan can see that she's pretty, especially when she laughs – he's not blind. But it's the same as when he notices when Louise's hair looks particularly good, or the way her eyes sparkle when she's trying not to laugh sometimes. It makes him feel warm, and kind of happy, but he doesn't fancy Louise – he just thinks she's brilliant.

And that's without mentioning the number of times Dan has to bite his tongue to avoid dropping Phil into the conversation.

Maybe it's because he doesn't know Jenny all that well that he's censoring himself, but the fact that he has to keep making a conscious effort not to tell her things about Phil, or things Phil's done, makes him worry that maybe he talks about Phil constantly and nobody's ever pointed it out to him.

 _I haven't been talking to anyone, I just notice things_ , Dean had said. Maybe that's what he's noticed – Dan mentioning Phil every other word. Dan squirms uncomfortably at the thought.

He wonders what it'd be like to be in this situation with Phil, instead. The thought of it makes him feel curiously light and strange, so he takes a sip of butterbeer to avoid talking for a moment. Him and Jenny are sat at a table for two in the corner, far away from the chatter of the other students enjoying their drinks. Normally, the times he's been for a drink with Phil in here, they sit closer to the door so they can people watch together.

It'd be nice, Dan thinks, to sit over here with Phil. When he shifts his legs under the table, his knees bump with Jenny's and she goes pink. It's disconcerting, because Dan's head is full of Phil, and he can imagine Phil doing that exact same thing. He can imagine Phil's pale fingers on his glass, and the bob of his adam's apple when he drinks, and the way Dan's eyes can't help but look at his eyelashes when he looks down for a moment – just something about them, something about _him_ , drawing Dan's gaze, always.

“You look thoughtful,” Jenny says, all of a sudden. He realises he's been too quiet for too long, and he hurries to apologize, but she doesn't let him. “It's ok. I get that too. End of the week, you know? You kind of just want to spend Saturday in bed.”

“God, yeah,” Dan says, guiltily, gratefully latching onto this reason for his silence. “Except you can't, you have to go to the library.”

Jenny pulls a face and says, “I know, right?” She pauses, running her finger back and forth in the condensation on her butterbeer bottle. “I see you in there sometimes. With, um, is she called Louise?”

Dan nods.

“She's pretty,” Jenny says.

“Yeah,” Dan says, because Louise _is_ pretty. Except there's a look on Jenny's face for a moment that makes Dan think maybe he shouldn't have agreed.

Why do people have to call people pretty as code for something else, Dan thinks, irritably, taking another sip of his drink. First Phil, and now Jenny...

And then he stops, because he's thinking about Phil again.

“Me and Louise,” He says, suddenly. “We're not – like – not like that.”

He takes another drink and finds himself thinking that if he keeps drinking to avoid awkward conversations then he'll end up spending the entire afternoon in the toilet, the way he's going.

Jenny avoids his eye for a second and says, “I wondered. Maybe.” Then she coughs and says, “But then I thought, I see her all the time with that tall Hufflepuff guy, you know? The Quidditch Captain.”

Dan chokes on a mouthful of his drink. Jenny doesn't seem to notice.

“So then I thought, you know,” She shrugs, then frowns at him wiping butterbeer off his chin. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, certain that his face has gone brilliantly red. “I – I'm pretty sure Louise and Phil aren't – they aren't like that, either.”

“Oh, yeah, that's his name,” Jenny says, looking thoughtful. “I guess you'd know if they were, right?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, vaguely.

He hates himself for the hot, sick feeling that's rising from the pit of his stomach at the thought of Louise and Phil being _together_. Especially when he's almost certain that they aren't, and that neither of them want to be. Louise tells him everything – as soon as she fancies someone, he hears about it. He envies her that, a little – his instinct is to keep that sort of thing to himself.

As for Phil...

Dan's gone over all of their recent conversations so frequently over the past week that he thinks he's slowly driving himself mad. He feels like every other time they talk these days there's something lurking behind the words, and if Dan can just pin down exactly what that is then he'll – well, then he'll know what Phil's thinking.

 _Nobody would ever ask you out as a joke_. That one's kept Dan awake a few nights, staring up at the canopy of his four poster. It's so ambiguous – it's something Louise would say. He can almost hear her saying it if he concentrates hard enough. As for their conversation in the library, Dan still doesn't know what to make of it. He keeps going over and over it, spacing out in quiet classes. All he did in History of Magic on Thursday was doodle on a scrap of parchment, mulling the whole thing over. Louise didn't do much better – it's History of Magic, after all – but she'd given him this odd look as they'd packed up to go to lunch, and asked him if he was alright.

Maybe he should just tell her. But he can't stand the thought of how _knowing_ she'd be, then, if she knew – every conversation'd turn out like that weird one with Dean. Not to mention how sympathetic she'd be when it inevitably didn't work out. Just the thought of that makes Dan's skin itch.

When they're preparing to walk back to the castle, Jenny hangs back a little, waiting for him.

“Oh, no, it's ok,” Dan says, impulsively. “I'm just gonna – I'm meeting Jack, you know, the Gryffindor captain? He wants to talk, like, strategy and stuff.”

“Oh,” Jenny's visibly disappointed, but Dan doesn't think he can get through enough conversation to carry them back to the castle. “Oh, ok then. Well, I'll, um – I'll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees.

He's unaccountably relieved when she's gone.

He ends up lurking outside the Three Broomsticks, just in case she decides to come back and see if he was telling the truth. Dan isn't even sure why he lied – it's not like she was rude, or annoying, he just didn't think he could get through another twenty minutes of her company. Maybe that makes him a terrible person, he doesn't know.

He waits about fifteen minutes – maybe less, because two intimidating looking figures in thick cloaks come outside to smoke foul smelling pipes – and then starts ambling back down the street towards the castle.

It turns out to be perfect timing, because just as he's shoving his hands in his coat pockets and hunching his shoulders against the wind, someone calls his name. He turns, instinctively, to find Phil walking over to him, bundled up in a scarf and the same coat he always wears.

For one stupid second, Dan feels like maybe he wished Phil into existence, just by thinking of him so much all morning. The way Phil smiles as he walks over sparks off this rush of bright feeling that makes Dan's palms damp and his mouth dry. His heart lurches and his palms sweat and he finds himself desperately hoping that his hair looks alright, even though he barely has reason to hope in this weather.

“Hi,” Phil says, when he gets close enough. Before Dan can say anything irreparably stupid like _I was just thinking about you_ , Phil adds, “Are you ok? I didn't expect to see you on your own.”

"Jenny went back to the castle,” Dan tells him. “I, er,” There's no reason for him to lie to Phil, so he says, “I kind of told her I was meeting Jack.”

A look flashes across Phil's face for all of half a second that reminds Dan of the look on Jenny's when he'd said Louise was pretty, so he hurries to add, “I'm not meeting Jack. Like, I just – I kind of wanted to be on my own, you know?”

“Oh,” Phil says. He takes the tiniest step backwards. “Oh, well – I can, um. I can just-”

“No, no,” Dan says, quickly, reaching out to grab Phil's arm without thinking. “It's ok, I didn't mean it like that, like. You don't count, you know?” That's not right, either. Jesus, what's wrong with him today? “I mean – it's not like being with other people.”

“As long as you're sure,” Phil says, after a moment's pause. Dan's hand's still on Phil's arm, and he lets it drop, feeling stupid. “I could probably catch up with Louise and Peej if you really wanted to be on your own.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot Louise was hanging out with you guys today,” Dan says, uncomfortably, remembering what Jenny said. “Has she gone back to the castle?”

“Yeah,” Phil says. For some reason, he looks a little pink in the face. “Her and Peej got cold and wanted to go back. I just, er, I thought I'd hang around for a little bit, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dan says. He watches the way Phil tries to flatten down his hair where it's getting caught by the wind. “D'you wanna...?” He gestures vaguely in the direction of the castle.

“Sure,” Phil says, smiling at him again.

-

It can hardly escape Dan's notice that just walking along with Phil is making him feel better than he has all day. Even though they're not talking, Dan doesn't feel awkward about it like he did with Jenny – he's just enjoying the fact that they're together.

“How did it go?” Phil asks, after a while. Dan looks at him, but it's not like he's staring at Dan or anything, he's just walking with his head ducked a little, hands in his pockets. Then he catches Dan looking at him. “I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, I just-”

“No, it's ok,” Dan reassures him. Then he shrugs. “It was alright. I dunno. Like, she’s nice, and everything, I just...” He trails off.

Phil nudges their shoulders together, companionably.

“Sometimes it’s just, like,” He says, thoughtfully. “You need someone you can talk to without trying.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, with feeling. “I’ve never understood, like, when people try and force a conversation to happen, you know? ‘Cause either it happens or it doesn’t, you can’t spend all your time with someone you can barely say two words to.”

“Exactly,” Phil says.

“And,” Dan tries to think of a way to explain without giving away the fact that the date was a dead loss from the start because he couldn't stop thinking about Phil the entire time. “D'you ever find yourself in a situation where, like – it's all going right, but you're not feeling it? You know? It's like watching a stranger doing all the stuff you're doing. Like it's separate.”

“I know what you mean,” Phil says. He sounds weirdly sincere, and Dan wants to ask him if _he's_ ever accidentally ended up on a date with someone he didn't really want to be on a date with when Phil smiles at him. “Hey, come on,” He veers off to the side where there’s a cluster of Hogwarts students milling around outside Honeydukes. “I’ll buy you chocolate as a consolation.”

“I don’t need a consolation,” Dan says, rolling his eyes a little, but he can’t help but smile.

“I’ll buy you chocolate just because, then,” Phil says, tugging on Dan’s arm. “Unless you hate chocolate.”

“You honestly don’t need to buy me anything,” Dan says. “I brought money out with me, it’s fine.”

Phil shrugs.

“I just want to.” Dan’s caught just looking at him for a moment – at his wide, earnest eyes – and then the moment fizzles out when some girls laugh as they walk by. Dan’s glancing awkwardly at the Honeydukes window display when Phil adds, “I mean, if you decide you want, like, an entire truckful of Every Flavour Beans I might have to retract my offer, ‘cause I don’t have _that_ much money on me. But I’m good for chocolate or sugar quills or whatever.”

Dan can’t help but smile at him. It’s irresistible, the way Phil’s existence just has his lips tugging upwards at the corners.

“Sugar quills are awesome,” He concedes.

“I know,” Phil says, grinning. “Louise said they were your favourite.”

As Dan pushes the Honeydukes door open and holds it for Phil, he makes a mental note to thank Louise later, shortly before asking her exactly what her and Phil had been talking about that included him liking sugar quills.

It’s not exactly a cold afternoon, but it’s still nice to go into the warmth of the shop, inhaling the sweet smell that always makes Dan think of warm sugar and peppermint. There are even more people from Hogwarts inside, tugging off scarves and hats and huddled around barrels and jars of sweets.

“Remember when you used to eat those blood flavoured lollipops,” Phil says, ducking his head close to Dan's so Dan can hear him over the babble of talk that fills the shop. Dan gets a sudden smell of Phil, his aftershave or his deodorant or something, and he just hopes he's not stupidly red in the face when he nudges him in the ribs and tells him to shut up.

Phil's too busy laughing to notice, anyway.

“It was impressive,” He teases, as they shuffle over to a display of chocolates. “I always wondered how you managed to do it without throwing up.”

“Just one of my many useless skills,” Dan says.

“Your skills aren't useless, shut up,” Phil says, patiently. He reaches across Dan to a nearby stand and grabs two bags of Every Flavour Beans. “Come on, these are on me. I'm sure Peej got a blood flavoured one once, you might get lucky.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Dan says, laughing in spite of himself.

-

Neither of them really discuss it, but instead of taking the road back to the castle they end up walking up the uneven track to the Shrieking Shack, swapping Every Flavour Beans and laughing at the flavours.

“I'm not eating that one,” Phil says, showing Dan a black bean.

“It might be blackcurrant,” Dan says, examining it.

“It might be dirt,” Phil says, pulling a face.

It turns out to be soy sauce, when Phil eventually sinks his teeth into it and licks the inside, tentatively. Dan can't help but laugh at him.

“You're so lame, oh my God,” He says, grinning and jostling Phil, who pulls a face and throws the bean on the ground. “I've never seen anyone eat one like that before.”

“It could've been dirt,” Phil says. Dan's still laughing, and Phil nudges him in the arm. “Shut up, I'm sure I got a corpse flavoured one once, you'd eat them like that if you'd been in that situation.”

“There's no way they'd do _corpse flavour_ , oh my God.”

“Rotting meat, then,” Phil says. Dan's still chuckling, and Phil gives him this frown that looks more like a smile than anything else. “You're not funny.”

But he's obviously forcing himself not to laugh, and when Dan pulls a stupid cross-eyed face at him he ends up dissolving into giggles.

They're still laughing when they reach the Shrieking Shack. The path's littered with big rocks and stones, and Phil suggests that they sit down for a moment. It's not really the weather for it, but Dan doesn't want to go back to the castle yet, so he agrees.

Once they're sat down, it's clear Dan didn't need to worry about the weather. The rock they're perched on is nowhere near big enough for two people, and Phil sitting so close next to him, touching from leg to shoulder, makes Dan feel stiflingly hot in his coat.

“D'you remember the first time we came up here?” Phil says. He's looking at the Shack when Dan glances at him, so Dan looks at it too – at the peeling paint and the boarded up windows and the nettles.

“Yeah,” He says. There are words waiting in his throat, thick and cloying, like he's just swallowed a mouthful of syrup. “I. It's weird thinking about that, 'cause...I dunno, I feel like you've been around since I first started school, you know?” Phil doesn't say anything when Dan pauses, so he carries on, eyes determinedly trained on the crumbling brick of the Shrieking Shack. “I mean, you have. Literally, since that first day.” He shrugs, and the movement jostles Phil because they're so close. “I dunno. It's gonna be weird without you.”

Phil's quiet for so long that Dan kind of wants to get up and walk away. Then he pushes his arm against Dan's, awkwardly, and says, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dan says. He doesn't look at Phil for a moment, but when his gaze makes the side of Dan's face prickle he ends up meeting his eye. “'Course it'll be weird without you. You're one of my best friends. Maybe,” He falters. “Maybe the best.”

Phil looks at him for what feels like the longest moment, and then he looks away. Feeling a little like he just got doused in cold water, Dan redirects his gaze to a loose thread on the sleeve of his coat.

“You're my best friend, too,” Phil says, quietly. When Dan looks at him, he's smiling, almost uncertainly. “Don't tell PJ, though.”

Dan laughs, surprised, and says, “I won't, don't worry.”

-

Dan's quiet at dinner.

He knows he's being quiet – quiet enough to worry Louise, who keeps giving him worried little looks across the table, but he doesn't think he can force out a smile or a stupid anecdote to save his life.

He doesn't know how to explain to Louise that there's nothing wrong with him. He had a nice day in the village and now he's back, that's all there is to it. There's no reason for him to be frowning down at his goblet of pumpkin juice the way he is.

Except for how there were a hundred moments today when all Dan wanted to do was to reach out to touch Phil in some way – to hold his hand when their arms brushed as they walked along, to sort his fringe out for him when it got blown out of place in the wind – to do _something_.

To kiss him, maybe. But Dan can't even let himself think about that, because his imagination rushes on in horrible downwards spirals, spewing out scenarios where Phil pushes him away, where Phil's disgusted, where Phil yells at him...

If he's honest, all Dan wants to do is slope off up to his dormitory and draw the hangings on his bed and brood for a little while. What he doesn't bank on is Louise's persistence.

After dinner, she grabs hold of Dan's sleeve and drags him to the nearest empty classroom, the two of them fighting against the crush of students headed back to their common rooms.

“What?” Dan says, as soon as she shuts the classroom door behind them. He watches her walking across the room to peer into a supply cupboard (presumably to check for Peeves). “What's up?”

She shrugs, walking back over to him and perching on a desk.

“I just thought it'd be better to talk about the whole Jenny thing where nobody else could hear,” She says.

Dan pulls a face.

“There's nothing to talk about,” He says. “Honestly, it was an average Hogsmeade visit, that's it.”

“That's why you haven't said two words since you got back?” Louise says.

“Yep,” Dan says, blandly. Then, when Louise gives him an oddly piercing look, he adds, “Nothing happened. I promise. It was fine.” He pauses, feeling his face grow hot. “I ended up running into Phil on my way back, that's the only reason why I was so late.”

“Oh,” Louise says. Then she frowns. “What's wrong, then? If Phil was fine and the date was fine-”

“Everything's fine,” Dan interrupts. “Come on, let's just go to the common room, we should start some homework.”

Louise folds her arms and fixes him with a stare that reminds him so much of his mum that he half expects her to ground him on the spot.

“I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what happened,” She says. Her irritated expression morphs back into worry and she adds, “She wasn't horrible to you, was she? Phil said something about how you were worried she might be.”

“No,” Dan says, with a sigh. “No, Jenny was fine, she's really nice, she just.” He closes his eyes for a second and pinches the bridge of his nose. “She just - she wasn't Phil.”

There's an unbearably long moment of silence. When Dan dares to open his eyes, Louise is just looking at him with a strangely bemused expression. He feels like he has to explain himself a little more in case she hasn't got it.

“Because I like Phil,” He says, all in a rush. “Which – I mean, obviously, like, he's my friend, but like – I don't _just_ want him to be my friend.”

“I-”

“And,” Dan says, interrupting her. “Today on that stupid date all I could think was that I'd be having so much more fun with Phil, you know? And then I ran into him afterwards and being with him was so – so _easy_ , you know, and it's just like – I don't know what he's thinking, and this whole thing is fucking terrifying, ok, and that's – that's it,” He finishes, lamely, feeling breathless.

“Oh,” Louise says, touching her chest. “Oh God, don't do that to me, I thought something horrible happened to you while you were gone.”

Dan stares at her.

“That's it,” He says, hollowly. “I just told you I – I like Phil, and – and that's _it_?”

“Well, I don't understand why you're so... _stressed_ about it,” She says, simply. “I mean, it's Phil.”

“Because,” Dan's lost the thread of what's happening. He'd expected her to be at least a little bit surprised. “I don't know what to do, and – and I feel like we're just dancing around each other, and then there might be some awful rejection situation, and-”

“No,” Louise says, shaking her head.

“No what?” Dan says, his heart lurching. “He doesn't – he hasn't said anything, has he?”

“No,” Louise says, firmly. “No, Dan. Oh God, come here.”

She gets up and gives him a hug.

“It's ok,” She says, holding onto him tightly.

Dan doesn't know exactly what's ok, but he still closes his eyes for a second and breathes in the smell of her perfume.

“Wait,” He says, pulling back for a second. “You don't seem all that surprised.”

She gives him another one of those looks of hers.

“Dan.”

“What?” With a creeping feeling of dread he remembers his weird conversation with Dean that morning. _I just notice things_ , he'd said. “Oh God, is it really obvious?”

“No,” Louise says. It's the kind of _no_ that means _yes_.

“Oh _God_ ,” Dan says, pulling away from her to cover his face.

“No, no,” Louise says. She sounds like she's trying not to laugh, and when she pulls his hands away from his face he ends up smiling at the look on her face. “It's not really obvious. But I know you, and I know...” She falters. “You should see the way you look at him.”

“Oh God,” Dan groans, but when he covers his face this time he's mostly doing it just for the sake of it, and he grins when Louise pulls his hands away again.

“Stop it,” She says. Then, almost without pause, she adds, “You should tell him.”

“Sorry, what?” Dan says. This isn't going the way he thought it would at _all_.

“Tell him,” Louise says. Dan shakes his head, vehemently, because there's no way in hell _that's_ gonna happen. “It's _Phil_.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Dan says. “And unless I – I can't risk it, ok? I really can't.” He pauses. “I only told you 'cause - 'cause I just had to tell _someone_.”

“Oh, Dan,” Louise says, and goes to hug him again. “You know,” Her voice is a little muffled against his shoulder, and he strains to hear. “The only problem we're gonna have is if you start talking about your weird Phil-related fantasies. Because, like, I love you, and I love him, but I really can't deal with that.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Dan says, pushing her away. She's laughing too much to care, and he can't help but join in, feeling somehow lighter than he has in days.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't suitable for vegans because it's cheesy af (forgive me I'm tired)
> 
> I'm so bad at non-spoilery warnings, but if descriptions of injuries aren't your thing please tread carefully on this one (if anyone knows how I even warn for this please let me know?? I'm an amateur) 
> 
> Also so sorry it's late, I regret all of my life choices (it's also super fucking long, I couldn't stop apparently)
> 
> Huge thanks to anyone who's liked, commented or just clicked on this for a laugh. You're all fab and I appreciate you endlessly <3

It's a testament to how tired of Jack's Quidditch obsession Dan is that he ends up hiding from him behind Greenhouse Four on Wednesday morning.

“This is ridiculous,” Louise hisses.

“I know,” Dan says. Their breath hangs in the air in frigid little clouds from where they're half-crouched in the wet grass. “If we're late I'm gonna kill him.”

They'd been on their way to Care of Magical Creatures when they'd seen Jack cutting a purposeful path in their direction across the castle lawns. Dan hadn't given it a second thought, he'd just run for cover behind the nearest building.

The fact that Louise is hiding with him when she has no reason at all to avoid Jack makes Dan feel all warm inside. Or it would, if it wasn't so cold.

“My socks are wet,” Louise tells him, unhappily.

“Mine too,” Dan says, daring to pop up for a moment to squint through the greenhouse to see where Jack is. It looks like he's talking to someone. “I think he's been distracted, it might be safe to -” Except the person Jack's talking to moves and Dan sees that it's Phil. He ducks down again. “Shit.”

Louise jostles him a little as she tries to peer at what Dan's seen, and then ducks back down again.

“I wonder if they're having a showdown,” She says.

“Probably,” Dan says, weakly, stupidly thankful that she isn't trying to bring up the whole Phil thing. “I'm sure Phil'll think of something cool to say by, like, next week.”

Louise hits his arm, but she's laughing.

“Don't be horrible,” She says.

“I'm not,” Dan protests. He squints through the glass, but it's rapidly getting fogged up from his breath. “I speak with total fondness, nothing but – oh shit, he's coming this way.”

“What?” Louise says. “Who is? Dan, we're gonna be la-”

Before she can even finish her sentence, Phil rounds the corner of the greenhouse. Dan and Louise quickly straighten up and try and look like they spend a lot of time hiding behind buildings made entirely of glass.

“First bookshelves, now greenhouses,” Phil says, grinning at the pair of them. He's wearing a muddy pair of dragon-hide gloves and the sleeves of his robes are rolled up, so Dan guesses he must be mid-Herbology class. Not that he'd get in trouble for disappearing outside – Dan knows Professor Sprout loves him.

“I know, right,” Dan says. And then, because he's an idiot, and he's trying so hard not to say anything stupid, he impulsively adds, “We've got to stop meeting like this.”

He accidentally catches Louise's eye and feels like he can sense his face getting gradually redder and redder, because of course everything's different now that she _knows_.

Not that Phil seems to notice.

“I distracted him for you,” He tells them. “I mean – I saw you running and then I saw him and I just assumed...Anyway, he's gone back up to the castle now, so you're safe.”

“You're a lifesaver,” Dan says, determinedly avoiding looking at Louise. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Phil says. “I think he just wanted to tell you that the fixtures have been announced – we're playing Slytherin on Saturday.”

“Oh,” Dan says, surprised.

“So soon?” Louise says, as though Phil's just announced he's going into hospital. “Are you guys gonna be alright?”

Phil just smiles, enviably calm about the whole thing.

“I think so, yeah,” He says. “I mean, we were pretty much certain we were gonna play Slytherin first, and – well, we've discussed...you know.”

“Strategies,” Dan supplies.

There's something about Phil's smile when he looks at Dan that makes Dan feel strange. It's not like he _stops_ smiling – far from it – it's more his expression softens, somehow. Dan thinks he could put up with a lot if he could have Phil looking at him like that more often.

“Yep,” Phil says. “All those arrows you love so much.”

“Oh God, don't mention the arrows, I'm so over them,” Dan groans, playing it up a little just to make Phil laugh.

“Ok, ok, no arrows,” He says, still smiling. Dan wishes he wouldn't. He thinks he's gonna strain something from the effort he's putting into not looking at Louise. “Erm – anyway, I should – Herbology.”

“Yeah, we should go too,” Louise says.

“I'll see you later, though, right?” Phil says, before Dan can say anything. “I, um. Both of you? In the library?”

“Actually I promised Zoe I'd help her with her Divination homework,” Louise says. “In the common room. Sorry.”

She doesn't sound very sorry at all – and this is the first Dan's heard of any Divination homework with Zoe.

“Oh,” Phil says. “Oh, well.” He coughs. “Dan?”

“Um, yeah,” Dan mumbles, feeling his face grow hot. “Er, library, yeah, I'll – usual table.”

“Great,” Phil says, sincerely. “I should, um – I'll just. Bye.”

Dan blinks after him for a second as he walks away, and then rushes off around the greenhouses just to avoid the inevitable conversation.

“Dan,” Louise says.

“No,” Dan says, walking faster, his feet slipping on the damp grass.

“You don't even know what I was gonna say,” Louise says, hurrying to keep up.

“Anything about – about that whole thing, no,” Dan says.

Louise tuts and says, “At least let me-”

“What?” Dan slows down a little and looks at her. She gives him this considering little look, then links arms with him.

“Nothing,” She says. “Come on.”

-

It's been like that ever since Dan foolishly admitted how he feels. Not that there's _tension_ between him and Louise, or anything – just that he's a little on edge all the time waiting for her to bring it up, and every time he feels like she might he tries to shut it down before she really gets started. Maybe that's unfair, but Dan doesn't want to discuss it. He wants to treat it like a hurdle – something he can just jump over and quickly forget.

Sadly, both Louise's persistence and Phil's continued existence are making it seem like the hurdle approach might not be a possibility after all.

“Dan,” Louise whispers in the middle of History of Magic. Dan had wanted to use the class to catch up on the sleep he didn't get worrying about playing Ravenclaw, but every time he goes to rest his head on his desk Louise prods him in the shoulder. “Look, I know you don't want to talk about it-”

“I don't mind talking about it,” Dan mumbles, chin resting heavily on his hand. “But we're in class and-”

“You've been avoiding talking about it for days,” Louise says. “Class doesn't have anything to do with it.”

“Yeah it does,” Dan says, very quietly, words almost masked by an enormous yawn. Nothing would ever stop Professor Binns' dedication to a lecture, he thinks, idly. Not even if someone set off twelve Decoy Detonators under his desk – he'd drone on about giant wars amongst the debris. “It's OWL year, all classes are – are -” He yawns again, his eyes watering. “Really important.”

Louise gives him an unimpressed look, and then looks pointedly down at his parchment, where all he's done so far is draw a dragon setting fire to Jack's precious Quidditch strategy notepad.

“Really important,” She repeats, slowly.

Dan pulls his parchment out of sight with a sigh and says, “Ok, point taken, say what you want.”

Louise just scrutinises him for a moment, which makes him flatten down his hair, just out of habit.

“I just – I don't want you to,” She stops, frowning. “Look, Phil's gonna leave, and -”

“I know that,” Dan hisses, feeling himself growing uncomfortably warm. “I spend most of my time trying not to think about that, so-”

“ _So_ ,” Louise says, cutting across him, shuffling a little closer to whisper in his ear when the Hufflepuff girl sitting at the next desk gives them a curious look. “You should give it a go. Like, tell him how you feel. Because,” She raises her voice the tiniest fraction, touching his arm. “Realistically, I mean – on the off-chance he doesn't feel the same-”

Dan makes a derisive noise. Knowing his luck, it's more than an _off-chance_ that Phil isn't interested. If Dan's honest, he'd be utterly unsurprised to discover that all of these weird could-bes and maybes that he feels around Phil only exist inside his head.

“- then you don't have to see him everyday for a little while. So it's kind of the perfect time. Right?”

The thought makes Dan's stomach churn. Even so, he knows Louise is only trying to help – she's probably been keeping this in for days – so he nods.

“Right,” He says, on the tail-end of a sigh. “No, yeah, I see what you mean. I – maybe,” He stares down at the desk. “Maybe, after this whole Quidditch thing's over. Like, the last thing I want is – if it got awkward, then we might have to play against each other, and that'd be shit.”

“Ok,” Louise says, quietly, apparently satisfied. “I just – I don't want you to think, like – like, you and him isn't some impossible thing, ok? I can see you, like, mentally filing it away, or whatever, and you shouldn't.”

Dan bites back a comment about how he's never so organised in real life, so the idea that he'd be organised inside his head is laughable. Louise is only trying to help, even if the thought of being so brave as to tell Phil how he feels almost terrifies him.

“Ok,” He says.

-

Time alone to study with Phil is something of a double-edged sword, these days.

On the one hand, Dan needs to get work done, and the library's the best place to do it. Phil's useful to have around, because chances are if Dan doesn't know something off the top of his head then Phil does, because he's studied it all before. Dan just wishes he could be as helpful when it comes to Phil's NEWT assignments, but he knows there's no chance there.

But then there's the way that just being alone with Phil these days almost makes Dan feel light and airy, like someone's replaced his brain with a balloon. He sits across from Phil and lets his eyes trace the slope of his shoulder and he feels like his chair legs should be hovering a little above the scuffed library floor.

When Dan feels like this – the balloon feeling – that's when he becomes reckless. That's when Louise's words return to him and make him think again – because surely telling Phil how he feels wouldn't be so bad? It's _Phil_ , after all, like Louise said. He's not a bad person. Awkwardness is the worst case scenario, Dan's sure (or he thinks he's sure, sitting across from Phil, watching the way the lamplight glints in his hair).

It's only when Phil looks up and happens to catch Dan's eye that the spell is broken, and all of Dan's misgivings come crowding back into the forefront of his mind.

Phil smiles at him, absently, thankfully unaware of Dan's internal struggle.

“You look like you're gonna fall asleep,” He says.

“I feel like it,” Dan says, rubbing a hand across his face. Between Quidditch practice, homework and worrying, Dan's becoming worryingly accustomed to operating on very few hours of sleep. It's only in the evenings that it all hits him, and he feels like he's been knocked down by the Knight Bus.

“Why don't you go to bed?” Phil says, quietly. Dan's sleep deprived brain thinks Phil's voice would probably be soft and warm enough to sleep in if he tried hard enough.

“Because these runes won't translate themselves,” Dan says, rubbing his eyes and stretching in the hopes of waking himself up a little.

“So translate them tomorrow,” Phil suggests.

“Why don't you do _that_ tomorrow,” Dan counters, gesturing at the complicated chart Phil's been filling in for the past hour. When Phil just gives him a look, he adds, “Exactly.”

“I can't. Quidditch practice tomorrow,” Phil says, pulling a face. “D'you ever feel like there's not enough time in a day to get everything done?”

“Only every single second I'm awake,” Dan says, glumly. He shifts his rune translation around – full of scribbles, as usual, and Ancient Runes is normally his best subject. “How's everything going with, like, practicing for the match, and stuff? Because we don't need to have an session this week, I don't want to, like, jeopardise your chances, or something.”

“It's going great,” Phil says, smiling a little. “Like, great enough that I'm pretty sure one measly hour with you won't _jeopardise our chances_. Is tomorrow ok?”

Dan nods. Quick as a flash, Phil reaches out and shuts his rune dictionary with a snap that makes Dan jump.

"Jesus, what the hell-“

"Only if you go and get some sleep,” Phil says.

“Phil,” Dan says, giving him a disbelieving look. But even though Phil's eyes are bright with amusement, Dan can tell he's not joking.

“That's the deal,” He insists. “It's not due for tomorrow, right?”

“No,” Dan admits, reluctantly. “But-”

“There you go then,” Phil says. “I'll see you on the pitch after dinner?”

Dan's about to protest, but he yawns before he can even think of the words. Maybe it _would_ be a good idea to go to bed now – even though the very fact that it feels like Phil's telling him to makes him want to stubbornly sit here for another hour, just to prove a point.

But in the end, he starts shoving his stuff into his bag and getting ready to leave.

“You're the worst,” He makes sure to tell Phil before he goes.

“I know,” Phil says.

Dan ends up thinking about his smile all the way back to the common room.

-

It was only a matter of time before the Slytherin team started upping their game in terms of jeering at Dan in corridors. Dan can deal with jeering – especially early in the morning, when his breakfast cup of coffee already feels like a relic of a lost era.

Jibes about Dan's Quidditch ability should be barely more than white noise by now, especially since Dan's usually the first person to make light of how rubbish a player he is.

The thing is, there's a significant difference between Dan making jokes about his Quidditch ability and the Captain of the Slytherin team making jokes about it.

It's so stupid, Dan thinks later, because it's not like he's even anybody important. People in his year know who he is, and Phil, obviously, and the rest of the Gryffindor team, but that's it. Dan's used to being comfortably invisible, just enough to slip under the radar. It's all because of Quidditch, Dan knows, as if he needed more of a reason to resent Jack putting him on the team.

Dan doesn't know how it starts, exactly. Him and Louise are queueing outside Transfiguration – or rather, sitting on the floor outside Transfiguration, because Dan wanted to cram some last minute revision for Vanishing spells.

“I'm never gonna Vanish that cat,” Dan tells Louise. Her eyes are scanning her notes, but he knows she's listening. “I always end up with the same one and I swear, it knows how shit I am. It makes this little noise every time I try and Vanish it. It's definitely telling me I need to give it up in, like, cat language.”

Louise laughs, and starts to reply when someone calls Dan's name. He looks up, surprised, but all he can see are the legs of passing people. He's just turning back to his textbook when the crowds part a little and Dan sees the bulky, supremely scary-looking figure of the Slytherin Quidditch Captain standing over on the other side of the corridor, watching him.

“Thompson,” Jack had said in his player breakdown from the previous week. “He's a new Captain, so he's inexperienced. Loses what little brainpower he's got every time he blows his nose, but he's vicious.”

Vicious, Dan thinks, when Thompson says “Howell” again, looking right at him. Great.

“What's up? Are you deaf as well as stupid?”

“Oh God,” Dan says, in an undertone, quickly redirecting his gaze to the book on his lap.

“Who _is_ that?” Louise says.

“Doesn't matter,” Dan mutters, but Thompson's already speaking again, his voice carrying over the babble of chatter in the bustling corridor.

“Come on, I want a chat. Fifth year to fifth year.”

Dan plans to just ignore him. If he ignores him, he might go away. He might get bored. Except his loud voice means people are eyeing the two of them curiously – and there are enough people waiting around for classes to start that he has a considerable audience.

“Just out of interest,” Thompson says, louder than ever. Dan can hear a smile in his voice, and he clenches his fist hard, staring so determinedly at the theory behind Vanishing spells that the words blur. “How much did you have to pay to get on the team? God knows it wasn't because of your natural skill...”

“Just ignore him,” Louise says, in an undertone, throwing Thompson an extremely nasty look. “He's not worth your attention, don't listen to him-”

“Or maybe you didn't pay,” Thompson's eyes are glinting maliciously when Dan glances over at him. He's finding it harder and harder to concentrate on his textbook, especially when the surrounding conversations in the corridor are falling silent for the sake of listening in. Dan feels like he's surrounded by a thousand staring pairs of eyes. “Maybe you got picked as a cheap distraction. God knows Gryffindor can't win the Cup according to skill, Howard's been trying that for years.”

The sentence Dan's trying to pretend to read seems to swim before his eyes.

“I mean, realistically,” Thompson says. “It's gonna be the most entertaining match anyone's seen for years, so I can understand-”

Dan's had enough. He throws the book to one side, dimly aware of people sniggering and Louise's anguished hiss of “ _Dan_ ,” as he gets to his feet. A look of surprise flickers across Thompson's face, but it's just as quickly replaced by a malicious smirk.

“You must be really relieved Quidditch doesn't involve stuff like being able to spell your own name, otherwise you'd be screwed,” Dan says. Anger makes him stutter over the words, voice coming out uneven, and he feels his face prickle, burning with embarrassment, but he stands his ground, staring Thompson down even though he looks like he could snap Dan in half if the mood took him.

“No,” Thompson says, apparently unconcerned by slights on his intelligence. “But it does involve the ability to throw the Quaffle without killing someone, which is something you don't seem to have grasped yet.”

“I don't know why you're so invested in my Quidditch skills when the only place you're gonna see them is from the stands,” Dan says, raising his voice over the sound of blood roaring in his ears. “There's no way you're gonna get past Hufflepuff with a team who don't know which side of a broom is which.”

Thompson draws his wand, which Dan wasn't expecting. He's already mentally calculating how fast he could get his own out when Thompson says, “If there was nobody else around...”

“Then I'd be able to hear your single brain cell rattling around in your skull,” Dan says, recklessly, feeling like he's on a roll even though his palms are sweating and his brain feels like a mass of different yelling voices.

“I'm warning you, Howell,” Thompson says, getting uncomfortably close to Dan for a second.

Then the loitering students hurriedly start to disperse, and Dan's still trying to remember the few defensive spells he knows when Professor McGonagall appears, looking stern.

“What on earth is happening here?”

“Nothing, Professor,” Dan says, quickly, before Thompson can say anything. She gives him the sort of look that she gives him when he's failed at Vanishing spells for the tenth time in her classes – like she can somehow see every lie he's ever told. He's relieved when she turns to Thompson instead – and quietly pleased at how much it looks like he's trying to avoid Professor McGonagall's eye.

“Thompson, I don't believe I have the pleasure of your company until next Tuesday, if memory serves?”

“Er, yes, Professor,” Thompson says.

“I thought so,” Professor McGonagall says. “In that case, I suggest you make your way to your next class.”

“Yes, Professor,” Thompson says, glowering at Dan as he hikes his bag up on his shoulder and walks off. McGonagall strides off into her classroom, and the queue start filing in behind her. Feeling foolish and unpleasantly warm, Dan goes and shoves his book haphazardly in his bag, filing in after everyone else and trying to ignore the way he's almost certain everyone's staring at him.

-

The rest of the morning is tainted by Dan's encounter with Thompson. Like he feared, he's no closer to Vanishing cats, and his appreciation of the way Professor McGonagall had made a burly fifth year behave like a scared first year quickly dissipates when she sets him _another_ roll of parchment on correct Vanishing theory with relation to more complex mammals.

The problem is, Dan thinks as he shoves his notes into his bag at the end of the lesson, everything Thompson said was true. Dan can't even summon the strength to argue. He's _not_ on the team for his skill, it's as simple as that. Everyone knows Emma's a better player than him – hasn't he overheard the conversations about it in the common room? And if even his fellow Gryffindors are discussing it then what hope does he have standing up against the rest of the school? Thompson's just the beginning, and Gryffindor haven't even played yet.

God, why did he think he could play Quidditch? Why did he ever think any of this was a good idea?

Fifteen minutes later, he's taken refuge in a bathroom on the third floor. Louise had been full of sympathetic words when they'd got out of Transfiguration, and Dan appreciated them, he really did, but he'd much rather just sit and wallow by himself for a while. Not to mention the fact that he doesn't think he can face the Great Hall right now – he'd probably be treated to round two as he passed the Slytherin table.

Once the cubicle door's locked behind him, he ends up sitting down on the closed toilet seat and trying not to panic.

He has to play in front of the whole school – a school full of people who are either aware of how abysmally his last attempt at playing went, or soon will be if Thompson and the rest of the Slytherin team spread it around.

An imaginary commentary starts up in his head, a magically magnified voice saying, “...Dan Howell, a surprise addition to Howard's squad considering the last match he played in involved more broken bones than goals...”

Dan buries his head in his hands, just as the sound of the bathroom door creaking open cuts through the silence.

“Dan?”

Dan presses the heels of his hands into his eyes for a moment. The last thing he wants to do right now is to humiliate himself in front of Phil, but of course Phil's here – of course Louise told Phil about his altercation with Thompson. Either that or it's already become common knowledge in the hour and twenty minutes since it happened. Dan doesn't know which is worse – either way, Phil's heard just how pathetic he is, and now to cap it all he knows that Dan hides out in toilet cubicles.

“Dan,” Phil says again. There's a knock on the cubicle door. “That is you in there, right? I mean – I can sort of, like – it sounds like you. If it's not you this is gonna be really embarrassing.”

Dan smiles. Of course he does. He thinks it could be raining fireballs on his house and Phil would make him smile somehow.

“Yeah, it's me,” He says.

“Oh, thank God,” Phil says, with feeling. He pauses. “Louise told me you were skipping dinner. And, um. Well. Other stuff.”

“Great,” Dan says. “Then you know that everyone heard how shit I am at Quidditch?”

“I heard that Thompson's a dick,” Phil says, calmly. “Louise told me what he said to you and then – well, he's wrong, alright? And he's got no right to speak to you like that. So. Well. I hexed him.” Dan thinks he misheard for a moment, but he doesn't have chance to ask because Phil just carries on talking. “So, er, I'm gonna have to cancel our training session tonight. I'm sorry. Professor Sinistra saw the whole thing, so I have, like, a week of detentions, but Madam Pomfrey'll definitely be able to get rid of the horns in no time and I'm still allowed to play in the match because I made out like it was an accident-”

Dan unlocks the cubicle door just so he can stare at Phil, open-mouthed.

“Sorry, what?” He says.

“I said I didn't mean to do it,” Phil explains. “I told her I was practicing Transfiguration theory in my head and I must've got him accidentally. PJ was my witness, he practically gave a statement.”

Dan can feel laughter bubbling up in his throat. He covers his mouth with his hand, like that'll somehow keep it in.

“You hexed Thompson,” He says. “And – and gave him horns.”

Phil nods.

“Big ones. Like a triceratops. But like I said, Madam Pomfrey'll sort it out, it's not even-”

But Dan doesn't care about Madam Pomfrey, because he's entirely too busy hugging Phil.

“You idiot,” He says, without pulling away. It's only when Phil's hands rest on his back, strangely gentle, that Dan realises this is probably extremely weird. “You _idiot_ , oh my God.” He lets Phil go, shaking his head. Phil's face is pink but he's smiling, uncertainly. “You know I don't need you to hex people for me, right?”

“I know,” Phil says. “But you didn't get the chance, and – well, like I said, Louise told me what he said.” He frowns. “You're not mad, are you? I didn't – I wasn't trying to make it seem like I think you can't fight your own battles, I just – the whole thing made me really mad, you know, that he'd even say that stuff.”

“I'm not mad,” Dan says. He can't help but smile again. “I. I don't even know what to say, oh my God.” He pauses, a hand at his mouth again. “Big horns?”

“Really big,” Phil says, grinning at him. The two of them laugh for a moment, and then Phil adds, “Best friend duties, that's all it was.”

“What, giving horns to people who have a go at me?” Dan says, ignoring the way his heart flutters hopefully at the way Phil said _best friend_. “That's really specific.”

Phil shrugs.

“I don't make the rules, I just follow them.”

-

By the time Saturday dawns, bright and clear, Dan's pretty sure most people have heard about the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain hexing the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. At least, he overhears people talking about it still at breakfast. Even the excitement about the match hasn't dampened people's enthusiasm for the topic of Thompson sprouting horns in the Charms corridor.

“Well, even if they don't win today at least Phil's gonna be known as the guy who gave a Slytherin horns,” Louise says, reaching for the nearest milk jug.

“Oh God, don't,” Dan says.

Ever since he woke up and rushed to the window to check that conditions were looking alright, he's had this tight knot of worry in his stomach about the outcome of the match. He'd known he wanted Phil to win the Quidditch Cup at last, but he didn't realise quite how much until today.

The Hufflepuff team had left the Great Hall a few minutes before, to wild applause from their table. Dan had wanted to go over and wish Phil luck or something, but there'd been no time.

He checks his watch, nervously.

“Should we go down there?” He asks Louise. “Maybe we should go down there. I mean, we want decent seats, right?”

Louise gives him this unbearably kind look and says, “I'll just drink this and then we'll head across. Ok?”

“Ok,” Dan says. He ends up tapping his fingers against his own empty coffee cup, his fingernails rattling against the china. “Sorry,” He adds, balling his hands into fists.

“It's ok,” Louise says, setting her cup down. “You know it's gonna be ok, right? Like – I know I'm not the biggest Quidditch expert going, but – if someone trains as much as Phil does, good things happen.”

“I know,” Dan says. “I know, I just – ugh, can we go?”

Louise just smiles at him.

-

When they make their way to the stands, Dan's surprised to see Dean and Jack wearing Hufflepuff rosettes, the same as him and Louise.

“What?” Jack says, when Dan gives him a look. “I'd rather they win than Slytherin.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “You know he's got this whole final showdown with Phil planned out. Battle of the Quidditch Captains.”

Dan snorts with laughter, and Jack hits Dean on the arm.

“It's not like that,” He protests. “I like Phil, he's great.”

“You just want to crush him at Quidditch and win the Cup,” Dean reminds him.

“Well, yeah,” Jack says, after a moment's pause. “Besides, winning the Quidditch Cup puts you in good stead for the House Championship, and nobody wants Slytherin to win again.”

“Didn't Ravenclaw win last year?” Louise says.

“They won't win this year,” Jack says, with a somewhat feverish glint in his eye. “Not after we crush them next week, it's gonna be so good...”

“And on that note,” Dean says, rolling his eyes for Dan and Louise's benefit and leading Jack down one of the rows to some seats.

They're almost on the top row, which gives them a perfect view of the pitch and the goalhoops. Dan shuffles along and sits next to Dean, and Louise sits next to him. It's only when they're sat down that Dan realises the rest of the Gryffindor team are sat on the rows either in front or behind them, and Jack starts getting to his feet, saying “Ok, team.”

“Oh God,” Dan mutters.

“Jack,” Dean says.

Jack ignores him.

“Keep an eye out for everything we've already discussed, alright? Joe, Jim, I want you to look out for the beaters, ok, see if they have any weaknesses we can exploit... Alfie, Dan, Dean...”

“Don't bring me into this,” Dean says in an undertone, catching Dan's eye. Dan grins at him. “You know, we only joined the Quidditch team for a laugh.”

“Really,” Dan says, dryly.

“Yep,” Dean says. “Hard to believe, I know.” Jack's still talking, saying something about how Zoe needs to watch the seekers like a hawk. Judging by the way she's leaning into Alfie as he whispers in her ear, Dan doesn't think she's paying that much attention. “I think it's the House Championship thing that's got to him. He wants to, like, go down in Hogwarts history. Last chance and all that.”

Dan experiences a momentary spike of guilt at that.

“It's Phil's last chance, too,” He ends up saying, lamely.

Dean raises his eyebrows a little and says, “Yeah, exactly. I told you, battle of the Quidditch Captains.”

“Oh, they're coming out,” Louise says, grabbing Dan's arm.

“Yeah, sit down, loser,” Dean tells Jack. Dan's too busy squinting down at the pitch to pay them much attention.

It's stupid, the way he feels when he sees Phil walking out onto the pitch. It's not like he's never seen Phil play before, but he's so nervous on Phil's behalf, anticipation sitting heavy in his stomach. He keeps wiping his damp palms on his knees.

If he's this worried about Phil's match, God knows how bad he's going to feel when he's the one walking out onto the pitch. He'll probably have to be carried out on a stretcher, Dan thinks, darkly, watching the Hufflepuffs milling about on the pitch. Phil's facing them all, gesturing a little, maybe getting in a few last words of encouragement while he still can.

“Look at him,” Jack says, when Madam Hooch motions the two Captains to shake hands. Dan assumes from the distaste in his voice that he's talking about Thompson, whose arrogant smile is obvious even from this distance. “Doesn't know when he's beaten.”

“It'll be fine,” Louise says, on Dan's other side. Even she sounds worried. “Phil said he wasn't fussed, right? He knows what he's doing.”

“He's had enough extra practices with you, to be fair,” Dean says to Dan.

“Mm,” Dan says, absently, not taking his eyes off Phil. He's mounting his broom, and the commentator's saying something – and then Madam Hooch blows the whistle, and the players rise into the air.

It soon becomes clear that it's going to be a good match to watch, simply because the players are moving quickly and efficiently and Dan doesn't quite know where to look first. He almost wishes this wasn't a Hufflepuff match, because then he could just enjoy it objectively without wanting to gnaw his fingernails off with second-hand nerves.

It sounds like it's Tom, a Slytherin seventh year, doing the commentary (“If he says anything biased I'm not giving him that limited edition chocolate frog card for Christmas,” Dean says), but beyond listening to him shout out the names of the chasers Dan isn't paying attention. He's torn between keeping his eyes on Phil (who's guarding the centre hoop, same as always) and watching the progress of the rest of the game.

“Look at that,” Jack says. There's a rustle of parchment and Dan doesn't need to look around to know he's scribbling in his notebook. “Perfect formation.”

Up above, the Hufflepuff Chasers are flying close together, somehow dodging other chasers and bludgers alike as they head to the goal hoops.

“We knew that anyway,” Dean says, in an undertone. “That's always been their strength, it's their beaters that're a weak point-”

As if on cue, one of the yellow-clad beaters tries to hit a bludger towards an oncoming Slytherin chaser and misses – the Hufflepuff chaser who'd had the quaffle loses it and a Slytherin chaser swoops in quicker than Dan was expecting and reclaims it, rushing up towards the opposite goals – towards Phil.

“Come on, come on,” He mutters, so close to the edge of his seat he's in danger of falling forwards and hitting Alfie in the back of the head.

The Slytherin Chaser shoots, and Louise grabs Dan's arm – but Phil saves it.

“ _Yes_ ,” Dan says, clapping hard enough to make his hands hurt in the cold air. The tide of boos from the Slytherin end of the stands is cacophonous, but Dan couldn't care less – up in the air, Phil's grinning to himself, and Dan's never wanted to hug him more than he does in that single moment.

“He's so good,” Louise says.

“He's amazing,” Dan says, fervently. He's having more trouble than he'd like to admit focusing on the rest of the game, which says a lot considering that keepers aren't exactly attention-grabbing players, unless someone's trying to shoot.

“I mean at Quidditch,” Louise says quietly, nudging him, and he rolls his eyes at her, grinning.

“Hufflepuff back in possession,” Jack says, almost at the exact same time as Tom over the magical megaphone. “They're gonna do it, they're gonna -”

Hufflepuff score – Slytherin's Keeper (“ _That's_ Jenny's brother, I told you,” Jack reminds Dan) is nowhere near as fast or agile as Phil, and when the Hufflepuff chaser (Dan thinks her name is Dodie) feints to the left, he falls for it, only for the quaffle to sail right past him through the right hoop. Dan's on his feet without ever deciding to be, Louise jostling him as she cheers.

“They're really good,” Dean's saying to Jack, when the cheering subsides a little and Dan and Louise sit back down, grinning breathlessly at each other. “Their chaser strategy's second to none. We're gonna have to properly consider-”

But what they have to properly consider Dan doesn't know, because at that exact moment lots of things happen in quick succession – which somehow lead to Tom saying, “...and that's ten points to Slytherin!”

“What?” Dan says, craning his neck, as though that'll somehow help him to see better. Phil's at the edge of the goal circle, apparently talking to Madam Hooch. Across the pitch, it looks like Dodie's nose is bleeding – the other chasers are clustered around her and the Hufflepuff beaters are flying either side, bats held aloft.

“There's some confusion,” Tom's saying. “But I think there were two separate bludger attacks from Slytherin – one aimed at Chaser Clark and one aimed at the Hufflepuff Keeper – and, yep, penalty to Hufflepuff!”

“Why are they hitting stuff towards Phil?” Louise asks, outraged.

“Because they know he's too good,” Dan says, his heart beating so hard it almost hurts. Phil's a little red in the face but looks otherwise unharmed – Dan can't believe the second he stopped watching him was the second he got a bludger hit towards him. “They've figured out the only way to get anything past him is to distract him first.”

“Also because they're dicks,” Dean adds, helpfully.

“You can't aim at the Keeper while there's a Chaser in the goal circle,” Jack says, his notebook forgotten in favour of his anger. “Which Thompson would know if he could read, but as it is the rules of Quidditch are a mystery to him-”

“Hufflepuff score!” Tom says, his voice ringing out across the stands. “So that's twenty – ten to Hufflepuff, and please, no more illegal beating moves...”

Tom's plea falls on deaf ears. Clearly angry about the Hufflepuff lead, the Slytherin team's tactics only get worse. Five minutes later, the Slytherin seeker fakes a dive, leading the Hufflepuff seeker into the path of yet another bludger. He manages to avoid it without being unseated, but it's a near thing, and the tide of Hufflepuff supporters in the stands stamp their feet and yell.

“That's it,” Jack says. “If Hufflepuff get the snitch now it's all over. I mean, I'm pretty sure Phil wants a more reasonable lead but either way, a win's a win, isn't it?”

“Especially with Slytherin playing like this,” Dean says, darkly.

Hufflepuff score once more, but there's still no sign of the snitch. The Slytherin chasers repeatedly take possession of the quaffle but they hardly get much further than shooting – Phil's too fast for them, but every time they stray down to his end of the pitch Dan feels like his heart's in his mouth.

“What's the seeker doing?” Jack wants to know, when Phil saves yet another goal. “Shut it down, now, shut it down – Zoe, if it gets like this when we're playing I just want you to catch the snitch and hang the point margins, alright?”

Zoe turns around, bemused.

“He doesn't mean that,” Dean tells her. “It's the match talking.”

“...and that's Slytherin Captain Thompson hitting a bludger towards Bradbury of Hufflepuff – Bradbury dodges – Slytherin in possession of the quaffle – Lewis – careful, Lewis! - back down to Lester, see if he misses this one...”

But Phil doesn't miss, and it's forty-ten to Hufflepuff. Dan finds himself agreeing with Jack's rants about the Hufflepuff seeker – what's he doing? All he has to do is catch the snitch and then it'll all be over, and Hufflepuff will have a reasonable lead...

“What's he doing?” Louise asks, suddenly. It takes Dan a second to figure out what she means, but when he notices too his stomach sinks – Thompson's straying treacherously close to the Hufflepuff goal circle, especially considering the chasers are caught up in a vicious cycle of passes and aborted passes over in the middle of the pitch.

“He's not thick enough to try anything,” Dean says, noticing Thompson too. “It'd be too obvious.”

Dean's barely finished speaking when Slytherin definitively take possession of the quaffle, one of their chasers streaking back down the pitch in a blur of green.

After that, everything seems to happen all at once.

The crowd are on their feet, and it takes Dan a moment to realise that it's because the Hufflepuff seeker's gone into a dive, rapidly gaining speed. Dan watches his progress for a moment, but his eyes quickly flicker back to Phil – and just in time, because just as the Slytherin chaser's about to try and shoot, Thompson jerks his arm, quick as a flash, and Phil seems to lose control of his broom. He's losing height, nearly crashing into one of the goalposts before he regains control, clutching his face.

“They've done it,” Dean's saying. “Hufflepuff are through.”

“Ravenclaw next!” Jack says, and the two of them hug as though they're the ones who just caught the snitch. Dan's already moving, though, him and Louise fighting their way back down the row to the stairs.

“What did he do?” Louise asks, panicky, the two of them rushing down the stairs to the pitch amongst a cheering wave of triumphant Hufflepuffs.

“I don't know,” Dan says, his stomach churning. “Threw something at him? It looked like he was gonna fall off...”

As soon as they hit the pitch Dan's running to where he can see the bright uniforms of the Hufflepuff team, all of them looking a little worse for wear – Dodie pinching her swollen nose tightly so it doesn't bleed, and Phil -

“Did you just run?” Phil asks, sounding dazed. His eye's rapidly swelling shut, and there are raised little patches of bruising all across his cheekbone. “You hate running.”

“Oh my God,” Dan says, while Louise rushes forwards to hug him. “Oh my God, I can't – what did he even – I thought you were gonna fall off, oh my _God_ -”

“I'm fine,” Phil says. “Look.” He nods over to where Thompson's being severely berated by not just Madam Hooch but Professor Sprout, who Dan's never seen get angry in the entire time he's known her.

“What did he do?” Louise asks, reaching up to touch Phil's face. He winces, pulling away. “Sorry, sorry...”

“Beater's bat,” Phil says, prodding his face gingerly. “That's one hell of a throwing arm he's got, he must've been really angry about the horns thing.” He smiles at Dan, but that makes him wince too. “Hey, Dodie,” He adds, when she passes by, still clutching her nose. “You should go up to the hospital wing.”

“ _You_ go up to the hospital wing,” Dodie says. Her voice sounds a little odd because she's still pinching her nose. “It looks like you had a fight with a brick wall and the wall won.”

“ _We_ won, you mean,” Phil says, grinning. The pitch is full of Hufflepuffs, hugging each other and cheering, but Dan can't take his eyes off Phil's rapidly swelling face. “It hurts to smile and I don't even care, we _won_.”

“Lester, Clarke,” Madam Hooch says, striding over to them. “Hospital wing, immediately.” She gives Phil's smile a doubtful look and adds, “Perhaps I ought to accompany you, in case of concussion...”

“Oh, no, it's ok, we'll take him,” Louise says, quickly, grabbing both Phil and Dan by the arms.

-

“You're sure,” Dan says to Madam Pomfrey twenty minutes later. “That's it, there's no – no brain damage, or anything?”

“I'm right here,” Phil reminds him. Dan ignores him. Phil's nose had started bleeding on the walk up to the hospital wing, and even if he doesn't look like he had a fistfight with a troll anymore, Dan's read enough stories about muggle doctors to know that head injuries are bad news.

“I'm quite sure,” Madam Pomfrey says, sounding almost affronted at Dan's questioning of her healing skills. She rounds the bed Dan and Louise had made Phil sit down on, handing Phil a small cup. “There's a chance of concussion, but this should take care of that.”

Phil eyes the contents of the cup, doubtfully, but then downs it in one. Madam Pomfrey gives him a satisfied nod and goes over to talk to Dodie, leaving Dan and Louise sitting on either side of Phil, like they're visiting him in hospital.

Phil touches his cheek, tentatively.

“I'll never get over that,” He says. “The whole healing thing, I mean. Like, I don't even know what they do about stuff like this in muggle hospitals. How do they even set fractured cheekbones?”

“Probably by cutting your face off,” Dan says, darkly. “Thank God you're here.”

“It wouldn't have happened if I wasn't here,” Phil says, rolling his eyes a little.

“It wouldn't have happened if Thompson hadn't thrown his bat at you, you mean,” Louise says, her eyes still wide with horror. “I can't believe he'd even do something so stupid.”

“I can,” Dan says. Just the thought that Thompson hurt Phil makes him clench his hands into fists. “Next time I see him I'll hit _him_ in the face with something stupidly heavy, see how he likes it.”

“Don't,” Phil says.

“Why not?” Dan says, aware that his voice is louder than necessary but not willing to do anything about it. “The only reason he did this was because of the horns thing, and the only reason you did that was because – because he said all that stuff about me, and now you're – you broke your _face_ , Phil.”

Phil shrugs.

“It feels fine. It feels great, actually,” He prods around under his eye, making Louise smile. When Dan doesn't smile, Phil sighs. “It's fine. Dan, hey.” He touches Dan's wrist – fingers brushing against the cuff of Dan's coat. “I don't care. Well. I mean, I do care a _bit_ , like, he broke my face. But I don't care if it's because I hexed him.”

“It _is_ because of that, Phil,” Dan says, exasperated.

Phil just shrugs again.

“I'd hex him again in a second,” He says, gently. Dan really wishes he wasn't talking like that in front of Louise, who's pretending to find the hem of her skirt fascinating. Not that Dan's really paying much attention to Louise when Phil's looking at him the way he is. His Quidditch robes make his eyes look bluer, somehow. “Best friends, remember?”

When Madam Pomfrey bustles Dan and Louise out of the hospital wing a few minutes later (despite her reassurances about lasting damage to Phil's skull, she wants to keep him under observation until she's sure the potion's kicked in), Dan can still feel the warmth of Phil's fingers on his wrist.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Eni, who was there with me every step of the way for this one ^^
> 
> Thanks again to anyone who's left kudos or commented! Honestly, sometimes I'm so nervous about certain chapters and then seeing that people still like the story makes me feel so relieved about posting. Thank you all so much <3
> 
> (SPOILER ALERT: more injury descriptions. I'm sorry)

Tuesday afternoon finds Dan waiting outside in the frosty grounds for Phil. He'd taken exactly one step out of the castle and realised not wearing a hat, gloves or a scarf was a huge mistake, but his unwillingness to walk back up to his dormitory means he'd kept walking regardless. Now he's standing in the shadow of the beech tree by the lake and trying his best to hide his cold face in the collar of his coat.

Trust Phil to want to do something outside in this weather, he thinks – but with more fondness than irritation. It's becoming clear at this stage that if Phil suggested that he and Dan took a trip to a volcano Dan'd resign himself to death by lava if it meant doing something that'd make Phil smile at him.

He stamps his feet a little, shivering as he looks out across the lake. There are some birds flying low across it, and he gets distracted looking at their reflections in the smooth water. When he hears a twig snapping behind him, he smiles.

“You know it's freezing, right?” Dan says. “You owe me, like, twelve hot chocolates.”

“Er,” A not-Phil voice says. “Sorry.”

Dan turns on his heel, alarmed, to find Jenny standing there, all bundled up in a coat and hat. Dan feels extremely stupid all of a sudden.

“Um,” He says, awkwardly. “Sorry, I – er.”

“It's ok,” She says, quickly. “I was just, um. Looking for a good place to, um, study.”

“Oh,” Dan says. He's pretty sure the icy grounds are the last place he'd want to do homework – not that he can really talk when he's lurking out here too.

As though she's read his mind, Jenny pulls a little face and says, “I get really...Do you ever feel extra pressure working in the library because everyone else is working too? And it's almost like it becomes a competition?”

“Oh God, yeah,” Dan says, with feeling. “Although I've never, like, gone out in the cold to get away from it, so your dedication to the cause is way greater than mine.”

Jenny smiles at him.

“Thanks,” She says. There's an awkward pause. “So, um. I'm sorry about what happened to, er, your friend? At the match?”

“Sorry?” Dan says, his mind completely blank for a second. Then he realises what she means. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Um. Yeah, that was, uh.” He doesn't quite know how to discuss Thompson without betraying his extreme desire to inflict serious pain on the guy, and for all Dan knows him and Jenny might be friends. “Yeah, that was crazy.”

“It looked really rough,” Jenny says. She looks almost worried, which makes Dan warm to her more almost instantly. “Ben – my brother, he's on the team - he said they weren't expecting Alex to pull anything like that. Like, at all.”

Dan finds that extremely hard to believe, but he thinks saying so might be unfair. Jenny can't help being in the same house as that idiot, after all.

“I, it was a surprise alright,” Dan says, lamely, thinking idly that that's probably the understatement of the century. “I, um. But Phil's fine, though. I mean, he fractured his cheekbone and his eye socket was messed up and – and his nose...” Just listing all of Phil's injuries is making little tendrils of worry writhe in Dan's stomach like snakes. “But, erm. Madam Pomfrey fixed him up in, like, two seconds, so.”

“That's good,” Jenny says. Then, as if on cue, because Dan feels like he's about to implode with awkwardness, Phil appears, walking in their direction with his hands in his pockets. Jenny turns to look where Dan's looking and adds, “Erm, anyway, I should – I should go, um. It's too wet down by the lake, I might, just...the courtyard's got more cover. It was nice to see you.”

“Erm, you too,” Dan says, but she's already walking away, straight past a bewildered looking Phil, who'd slowed down a little when he'd seen who Dan was talking to.

“Everything alright?” Phil asks, curiously, when he's close enough to lower his voice.

“Erm, yeah?” Dan says, bewildered. “She just wanted to talk about you, actually. Reassuring me that none of the Slytherin team knew Thompson was a face-breaking nutter.”

“Oh,” Phil says, ridiculously casual about the whole thing. “Oh, well, they probably didn't know. There's hardly gonna be a strategy arrow for throwing bats, is there?”

“Bullshit,” Dan says, scowling. “Of course they all knew. I can't – I was really polite to her then, d'you ever do that? Like, you're all polite about something when inside you're all, like,” Dan can't begin to explain the snake feeling, so he says, “pissed off.”

“That's because you're a nice person,” Phil reminds him. “And it wasn't her that hit me in the face.”

“Hmm,” Dan says, non-committal. Phil looks worried, though – they've had conversations like this almost every day since the match, and Dan thinks maybe Phil thinks Dan's gonna enact some huge and impressive revenge on Thompson the longer it goes on. Dan isn't, no matter how much he wants to, and he kind of thinks it's hilarious that the guy who gave Thompson horns for talking shit about Dan is adamant that Dan doesn't do something similar over him fracturing his cheekbone.

“Dan,” Phil says, as if he can read Dan's mind.

“Ok, ok,” Dan says, shoving his cold hands into his coat pockets. “What's the latest distraction tactic?”

“I don't know what you mean,” Phil says, lightly, but he's smiling. “Come on.”

Dan follows him, smiling himself. Ever since the fallout from Saturday's emotional rollercoaster died down, panic about Dan's impending humiliation against Ravenclaw has been filling up his mind during any idle moment. Dan thought he'd been quite subtle about it all – it's not like he'd completely retreated to his dormitory, or anything, and he still replied when Louise talked to him, but he must've underestimated her because it took exactly half a day of vague replies and glazed, panicky expressions for her to enlist Phil's help to distract him.

On Monday evening, Phil dragged Dan down to the kitchens. Phil being Phil, he hadn't thought of a cover story well enough, so he pretty much admitted that “Louise said you were stressing out” as soon as Dan asked what was going on. Dan had rolled his eyes and pretended to be irritated, but to be honest at this point any extra time with Phil is a blessing.

They'd drank hot chocolate, and then Dan had felt so guilty watching all the house elves bustling around that he'd offered to wash up their plates and cups – a suggestion that was met with horror by all of them. They'd plied him with cake and insisted he stay sitting down.

When him and Phil left an hour later, Dan had to hurry back to the common room before it was too late to be out – but not before Phil had insisted that Dan meet him by the lake the next afternoon.

“I have homework,” Dan had said.

“So do I,” Phil had replied, with a shrug. “Is after lunch ok?”

Dan appreciates it, he really does – not least because the thought that Phil'd go to this much trouble just to make him feel better makes him feel all warm and happy – but it's kind of like trying really hard not to think of a pink elephant. The more Dan tries not to think about Ravenclaw and his own Quidditch ability the more he ends up thinking about them, Thompson's stupid insults squirming unpleasantly between his ears.

“I wanted to do this later, really,” Phil tells him as they walk along, Dan stumbling a little on the uneven ground. “But it gets dark so early I thought it'd have to be lunchtime.”

“Do what?” Dan asks, curiously. All they've done so far is walk along the edge of the lake. It's pretty, certainly – the way the water reflects the white winter sky and the dark lines of bare trees – but Dan's walked around the lake before, and there's nothing really of interest down here unless you really love water and (in this weather, at least) freezing your fingers off.

As if in answer, Phil stops walking and starts rummaging in his coat pockets.

“Fishing?” Dan guesses, unhelpfully. “I've never been fishing.”

“How would I fit a fishing rod in my pocket?” Phil asks, apparently unable to find whatever it is he's looking for.

“Undetectable Extension Charm,” Dan says, immediately. Then he laughs, in spite of himself. “Hah, Phil, is that a fishing rod in your pocket or-”

“Here,” Phil says, finally, producing a packet of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and holding it up so Dan can see. Then, after a pause, he takes it back, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “Were you just about to make a fishing rod dick joke?”

“No,” Dan says, but when Phil laughs he can't help but laugh too. “Maybe. Shut up, you set yourself up for it.”

“Oh my God,” Phil says, shaking his head. “Anyway, shh, you're gonna love this-”

“Bubblegum,” Dan says, just to be annoying. “Yeah, I've had it before.”

“It's not just the bubblegum,” Phil says, rolling his eyes. “Just – gimme a sec.” He stoops and picks up a pebble off the ground and throws it into the water. It makes a satisfying plop as it lands, and Dan's about to pick up a pebble of his own to throw when Phil touches his arm and says, “Wait a minute.”

They don't have to wait that long – the ripples from the pebble dissipate quickly, but then something else ripples in the same spot. It takes Dan way too long to realise what he's looking at when he sees tentacles under the glassy surface of the water.

“Oh,” He says. “We're not here to throw rocks at it, are we?”

“No,” Phil says, sounding horrified at the idea. “That was just to get its attention. Watch.” He unwraps a piece of bubblegum and throws it. It lands in the water with another satisfying noise, and Dan watches the ripples and then eyes Phil, dubiously.

“What if the squid eats it?” He asks.

“Just wait,” Phil says, barely suppressing a smile.

“Oh my God, Phil, if you've killed the giant squid-”

“I haven't killed the giant squid,” Phil says, patiently. Dan looks back out at where the water's moving. He can just about see the giant squid's tentacles undulating lazily under the water, but it doesn't seem like it's in pain or dying or anything.

Just when Dan's about to ask exactly what it is they're waiting for, a bubblegum bubble escapes the surface of the water and floats away, carried by the breeze.

Dan can't believe it. He makes a stupid, choked up noise of surprise, and Phil grins at him.

“What?” He says. “ _What_?”

“The Giant Squid likes bubblegum,” Phil says, and then he starts laughing at the look on Dan's face.

“Shut up,” Dan says. “No way. Give me a piece.” Phil hands over the packet, amused. “No _way_.”

Dan throws another piece of gum into the water. His piece falls a little further short of Phil's, so this time Dan actually sees the Giant Squid reaching for it. A few moments later, the surface of the water trembles a little, and another bubblegum bubble appears. This one hangs just above the lake for a moment, and Dan stares at it.

“How – how is – do squid even have teeth? Do they chew? How does it – how does it know to – _how_?”

Phil shrugs, obviously pleased by Dan's reaction.

“They have weird beaks,” He says. “I don't know if that's anything to do with it, though. But it's a magical creature, isn't it? I mean, I've seen it eat toast, so bubblegum isn't exactly a stretch-”

“But _bubbles_ , though,” Dan says, amazed. “I can't believe – can I throw another piece?”

Phil just nods, hiding his smile behind his scarf.

“I thought you'd like it,” He says, when Dan's next piece falls into the water, a little further in than his last.

When the next bubble pops up, Dan can't help but laugh.

“It's amazing, oh my God,” He says. “You don't think it harms it or anything, do you?”

Phil shakes his head.

“I don't think so,” He says. “I checked to see if there was, like, essence of baby squid in Drooble's, but there isn't, so it's not like we're encouraging cannibalism or anything.”

Dan grins at him.

“Good to know,” He says, handing the gum back. Phil unwraps his own piece and throws it, but Dan isn't even looking at the lake anymore, he's too busy looking at Phil. “You're brilliant, you know that?”

Phil rolls his eyes, making a funny little noise of dissent, and says, “It's the squid that does the cool trick, Dan, not me.”

“I know,” Dan says. He thinks of how he's almost certain Phil has a free period after this lunch hour's over, which means the time he's spending distracting Dan by showing him squid bubbles is time he could be using to study. It's on the tip of Dan's tongue to tell Phil not to fail his NEWTs just because he was hanging around with Dan too much, but instead he adds, “Whatever, you're still brilliant.”

“Yeah, ok,” Phil says, obviously trying not to smile as he hands Dan the gum back. “You can throw the next one.”

-

A little while later in Herbology, Dan chooses the moment when Professor Sprout sets them all off working to gush to Louise about Phil.

“I'm sorry, I just,” He looks down at the fanged geranium he's supposed to be pruning. It hisses at him. “I feel like if I get it all out, you know, I can stop...I dunno,” and he tells her all about their lunchtime excursion by the lake.

“Oh my God,” Louise says, when he's done.

“I know,” Dan says, snapping haphazardly at one of the geranium's leaves with his pruning shears and ignoring the unhappy noise it makes. “He just – he was just being so – so - ugh, stop me.”

“No, no, carry on,” Louise says, grinning at him. When he looks at her, she adds, “What? I'm just welcoming you being all, like, open about the Phil thing. It's great.”

“Mm,” Dan says. He feels like there's nothing he can do or say that'll be more embarrassing than the way he behaved after Phil got hurt on Saturday, so just talking about Phil now feels way less humiliating than it used to. “I'll tell him. I mean. If I survive the match, I'll tell him.” And then he's thinking about the match again, he realises, with a sinking feeling of dread. “Shut up,” He adds, when his fanged geranium hisses at him again.

“I think you'll feel better once you do,” Louise says, wisely. “It'll be ok.”

Dan's not so sure, but next to the match nothing else really seems as terrifying anymore. He privately thinks that if someone came up to him before Saturday and offered him a dip in a tank full of ravenous sharks as an alternative to the match he'd take it in a second. Telling Phil how he feels should be easy compared to that.

-

The only person who might be more worried about the Quidditch match than Dan is Jack. Dan realises this the next morning at breakfast, when he's edging his way down to the Gryffindor table.

“Why are you going so sl-” Louise starts, and then she spots Jack. He's halfway down the table, having a discussion with Joe that looks like it involves lots of arm waving. “Oh.”

“Maybe we should wait outside for a minute,” Dan says, stupidly. He finds himself absent-mindedly scanning the Hufflepuff table since they're standing right next to it, but Phil's nowhere to be seen.

“I'll be glad when all this is over,” Louise mutters. “I didn't realise how much I liked everyone just behaving like normal people until you joined the team. Hanging out with you and Jack together used to be fun, you know?”

“I know,” Dan says, apologetically. “He's just – I really like him, I just – I can't put handle his Quidditch advice right now.”

“It's fine,” Louise sighs. “Oh, there you go, coast's clear." Dean seems to be dragging Jack further down the table to actually sit down and eat, so Dan starts walking until he's sitting down opposite Joe.

“Hey,” Joe says. He sounds extremely put-upon, which is precisely how Dan's been feeling lately after Jack's (increasingly manic) impromptu pep talks, so he can sympathise.

“Hey,” Dan says, reaching for the coffee. “What's up? Jack didn't tell you to be one with your bat again, did he?”

Joe laughs.

“No, he just suggested I, er, practice my arm movements,” He says. Dan looks at Louise, and Louise snorts and starts giggling. Grinning, Dan looks back at Joe, who's smiling too. “I know, right? No, he literally suggested that when I answer questions in class I should imagine I have my bat in my hand and I'm about to hit a bludger with it.”

“Oh,” Dan says. “Oh God.”

“Yep,” Joe says. “It's safe to say he's extra stressed about this whole thing.”

“No shit,” Dan says, in an undertone.

Joe pulls a face and says, “Oh, and he wants to practice tomorrow night. He's booked the pitch. He said something about running laps-”

“ _What_?” Dan says, mouth falling open in horror.

“Oh my God,” Louise says.

“I know,” Joe says. “He also said something about not, er, fraternising with Ravenclaws?” Joe puts air quotes around _fraternising_ and gives Dan and Louise this look that makes it plain what he thinks about that.

“Jesus,” Dan says.

-

“Fraternising?” Phil says later, after laughing for way too long. “He really said that? Fraternising?”

“According to Joe, yeah,” Dan says, grinning a little helplessly. Watching Phil laugh is fast becoming one of his favourite things (in a list of favourite things that is almost entirely, stupidly devoted to Phil).

“Oh wow,” Phil says, after a moment. “I mean. Wow.”

“I know,” Dan says. “I think he's freaking out more than me.” Then, as he hangs back a moment to let Phil get his broom out of the shed first, he rethinks. “Actually, no, I'm definitely freaking out the most. I think my blood's about seventy percent coffee. I've become a caffeine zombie.”

“You need more sleep,” Phil says, like it's that easy, handing Dan the school broom he always uses.

“Right, yeah,” Dan says. They start walking back up to the pitch, and Dan just decides to be honest. “Except as soon as I'm lying in bed my brain's like, _hey, wouldn't it be fun to think about your imminent doom in front of the whole school_?”

“There's no imminent doom, ok, I promise,” Phil says. “You'll be fine.” He nudges their arms together. “I'm gonna tattoo _self confidence_ on your forehead while you're asleep so you always remember that all this negative stuff you think about yourself is totally wrong.”

“Ok,” Dan says, sarcastically. “Give whoever's commentating an extra thing to talk about on Saturday.” He puts on a stupid voice and adds, “ _And here's Howell with his distinctive head tattoo_...”

Phil laughs and elbows him in the arm.

“Shut up,” He says. “You're a great flier, and Saturday's gonna be fine. And even if it's not, then, well,” He shrugs. “Me and Louise'll be there cheering for you no matter what.”

Dan can't help but smile at that.

“Can we hide in the kitchens forever if I mess it up?”

“Definitely,” Phil says, staunchly. When he catches Dan's eye he grins, and Dan thinks that if everything with him and Phil continues like this after the match, maybe whatever happens doesn't really matter so much after all.

-

“Oh God,” Phil's saying, half an hour later.

Dan thinks he really needs to stop mistakenly thinking that everything in his life is actually going alright because that's usually the cue for everything to veer far out of control – like now, for example.

“I'm fine,” Dan says, his voice sounding a little strangled. He's trying to grip onto his broom handle even though it hurts, and he's worried he's about to do something stupid like burst into tears.

“We should go inside,” Phil says. He's trying to reach for Dan and fly his broom at the same time, which is no mean feat. “Dan, come on-”

Of course, Dan's so bad at Quidditch that he stopped paying attention during their usual warming up session of passing. He just sort of zoned out, not really focusing on where the football was going because – because he might've been a little distracted just looking at Phil's mouth, if he's completely honest with himself.

And of course, the second he stopped paying attention was the second that Phil threw the ball. Dan thinks that if Phil wasn't so good of a passer it wouldn't have hurt so much, except of course Phil's brilliant and so the football had smashed into Dan's little finger.

“I – oh God,” Dan says. He takes his injured hand off his broom handle and his finger looks so weird – it's sticking out all wrong, and Dan's stomach rolls unpleasantly. “Oh God.”

“Come on, let's go inside for a second,” Phil insists, somehow getting close enough to grab his arm mid-flight.

Dan manages to keep his rising panic inside as he waits, shivering, for Phil to rush back to the broomshed with their brooms, but as soon as the changing room doors swing shut behind them he starts losing it.

"Oh God," He says. If his voice is a little higher than usual, he's pretty sure he can trust Phil to never tell anyone about it. “I can't look at it, oh my God.”

He didn't think he was all that squeamish, but he can't seem to look at his hand at all. He keeps getting little flashes of his finger in his peripheral vision and it's making his stomach lurch like they're still in the air.

“Dan,” Phil says, in a voice that isn't exactly calm, approaching him slowly like he's a rampaging animal. "You're freaking out."

"I think you'd be freaking out if your finger was bent that way, Phil," Dan says, shrilly. He peeks out from between the fingers of his other hand and he thinks he genuinely might throw up. "Oh _God_ , this is the worst thing-"

"Shh, shh," Phil says. He touches Dan's hand and Dan snatches it away instinctively, cradling it protectively against his chest. He's breathing all weirdly and he tries to calm down, gulping in breaths like he's drowning.

Phil's eyes are wide and worried when he says, "I'm gonna have to look at it."

Dan starts to move his hand, then hesitates.

"You promise you won't touch it?"

“Promise,” Phil says. The fact that he produces his wand from inside his robes at the exact same time doesn't exactly fill Dan with confidence.

"Not the most convincing promise you've ever made, it has to be said,” He says, eyeing the wand with great trepidation.

"If I do touch it it'll be the tiniest touch in the world, ok?” Phil says. “I can promise that."

Haltingly, Dan holds out his hand for inspection, staring hard at Phil's face so he doesn't have to look at his poor, crooked finger.

Phil's hands are very, very gentle. They're so gentle it almost tickles, and Dan squirms a little when Phil's fingertip whispers across the inside of his wrist. It sends this shudder through Dan that seems to go all the way down to his toes.

"Sorry," He mutters, when Phil gives him a questioning look.

"What are _you_ sorry for?" Phil says, looking at his hand again. "I broke your finger." He's adjusting his grip on his wand as he speaks, and Dan heart kicks it up a notch as he starts properly panicking. Not that he's doubting Phil's spellwork – he's a seventh year, and he got more than two Outstandings in his OWLs, Dan knows – but there's a pretty big difference between Phil tending to injured Nifflers and Dan's injured hand.

"Are you sure we shouldn't just go to the hospital wing?"

"It's ok," Phil says, reassuringly. The way Phil's holding Dan's hand is doing nothing to calm Dan down. "I can fix it." When Dan fails to look convinced, Phil adds, "I read up on it when you broke your leg. It doesn't seem that difficult."

"Famous last words," Dan says, doubtfully. Phil's just holding Dan's injured hand in both of his own, and Dan wonders if he even realises that he's stroking his thumb back and forth over Dan's ring finger. He wonders if Phil realises how that tiny action is sending little flutters of heat all the way up Dan's arm. "Ok, but if my finger falls off we go straight to Madam Pomfrey, right?"

"Right," Phil agrees. Then he points his wand at Dan's finger. Dan waits for him to say a spell but he doesn't; he's about to prompt him to get on with it when he yelps - his finger burns hot for a second, then cold.

"Did it work?" Phil asks anxiously after a second, peering at Dan's hand.

Gingerly, Dan tries to move his little finger. It doesn't hurt at all. In fact, it isn't even sticking out at a weird angle anymore. Dan can't believe it.

"Oh my God, you did it," He says, wiggling his little finger in triumph. "Oh my God, Phil!" Dan pushes him in the shoulder with his free hand. "Maybe not the best time to show off your non verbal spellwork, the suspense nearly killed me."

“I'm great at non-verbal spells,” Phil says, distractedly. “Are you sure it's ok? Maybe we should go to the hospital wing anyway.”

Dan wiggles his finger again.

“It's fine,” He says. “You did it. Not gonna lie, I didn't have all the faith in the world there-”

“I told you, I looked it up,” Phil says. He's still giving Dan's hand this doubtful look, like he thinks his finger might burst into flames, so Dan just shoves his hand at him.

“Look,” he says. Phil takes hold of Dan's hand again, and now that there's no undercurrent of panic and pain the whole thing makes Dan's breaths stick in his throat. He coughs, as though that'll help somehow. “It's _fine_ , Phil.”

Ignoring him, Phil pinches Dan's finger between his thumb and forefinger and moves it backwards and forwards.

“This doesn't hurt? You're sure?”

“Completely,” Dan reassures him, and then takes his hand back before he can do anything regrettable like cover Phil's hand with his own. Then, because he's curious, he adds, “So you looked up healing spells.”

Phil blinks, eyes wide, like a small animal caught in a spotlight.

“I, um,” He flushes. “Like – just in case.”

“Right,” Dan says, looking across the room at the lockers just so he doesn't have to look Phil in the eye. It's too soon after Phil touching his hands for the two of them to be standing this close, Dan's sure. He feels like his rational thoughts have all melted into fog. “You've got the right idea, I'll give you that. Like, if you manage to come out of a match with an injury then I'm, like, guaranteed to faceplant on the pitch, or something.”

“No you're not,” Phil says, frowning. “I – I wish you wouldn't talk like that, you're a good flier.”

Dan holds up his healed hand and gives Phil a pointed look.

“Right, yeah, I'm brilliant.”

“That was _my_ fault,” Phil insists. “That's like me saying I'm a bad flier because Thompson tried to take my face off with his bat.”

“That's different,” Dan protests. “And anyway, you _are_ a good flier. You're, like – you know the only reason they were targeting you during that match is because they _knew_ you were too good.”

Phil shakes his head and says, “This isn't about me.”

“Because you know I'm right,” Dan says.

“No,” Phil says. “And – me looking up healing spells has nothing to do with your ability, alright? When - when you fell off your broom that time, I.” Phil falters, looking down at his hands. When Dan looks at them too, he sees that Phil's knotting his hands together so tightly his knuckles have gone white. “I thought you were seriously hurt, alright? Like – it was like,” He pauses, clearly struggling with the words. Dan thinks of what it'd been like, watching Phil get hit up in the air and not being able to do anything about it – like there were a dozen grasping hands scrabbling at his insides. “Doesn't matter. I just. I thought, if anything like that ever happened again I'd rather – I'd rather be prepared, you know?” Phil meets Dan's eye at last. “I. So. Nothing to do with your flying, just – just me.”

Dan's mouth is dry. He opens it to speak, but he doesn't know what to say. Phil's really red in the face, and he's knotting his fingers together again.

Dan could change the subject. He plays out an entire scenario in his head where he makes some stupid sarcastic comment and Phil laughs and the moment's over and they disappear off to their respective common rooms like nothing ever happened.

But he doesn't want that. He's tired of that happening, every time one of them looks too long or says something that might have a veiled meaning. All it's doing is giving Dan more reasons to stay awake in bed at night, mulling everything over.

All it's doing is driving him crazy, essentially.

And even if the thought of Phil rejecting him makes his heart beat five times as fast and his palms sweat, the thought of Phil leaving and Dan hardly ever seeing him again makes him feel even worse.

When he reaches out to touch Phil, he's genuinely surprised that his own hand seems perfectly steady.

“You looked up healing spells in case I hurt myself,” He says, softly. Phil's hand is warm. After an excruciatingly long moment in which Dan's pretty sure he's about to have a heart attack, Phil loosens his fingers and turns his palm in Dan's, and they're holding hands just like that. Like it's been that easy the whole time.

“I,” Phil's smile is small and bashful, and he doesn't seem to be about to throw Dan off. Dan can hardly believe it. “Like. I don't mean if you got a papercut, or something, like, I don't know how to fix that, just – broken bones, mostly. The spell's not that difficult, I could teach you.”

Dan snorts.

“Yeah, that's a good idea,” He says. “I'd definitely do more permanent damage, let's be real.”

Dan's heart isn't really in the whole healing spells conversation anymore, if he's honest. Neither is Phil's, judging by the way he's stroking the side of Dan's hand with his thumb.

“Shut up,” He says, softly. “Tattoo, remember? Right on your forehead.” He moves his free hand jerkily, a strange little aborted movement in the direction of Dan's face. He seems to change his mind halfway though, so Dan changes it back for him – takes hold of his other hand and touches it to his own forehead.

“Yep, that's it,” Phil says, a little awkwardly. Dan shivers involuntarily when he gently drags his hand down so his fingers are touching Dan's cheekbone.

Dan had always been given to understand that in moments like this you experience a complete calm, like everything unimportant to the person in front of you gets swept away to the back of your mind. That's what it looks like when stuff like this happens to other people, anyway – and in a way that's how it feels, except without the calm part. Dan's entire brain is a mess of different thoughts rushing in different directions and he can't look at Phil enough, at how red in the face he is (would it feel warm under Dan's palm if he reached out?), his eyelashes fluttering (they'd probably tickle Dan's fingers if he touched them), his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows nervously (Dan wonders how it'd feel under his lips if he was brave enough to even try).

“Hey,” Phil says, softly. Dan feels like the only places he exists are the places where Phil's skin's touching his – two warm points of contact amongst all the static. “Can we, um, I. Er.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, and kisses him before he can hesitate about it any longer.

The first thing that strikes Dan (beyond the outright disbelief and panic because he's kissing Phil, he's actually doing it, he literally moved and now it's happening) is how _gentle_ Phil is about the whole thing. It's like clicking the final piece of a jigsaw into place and everything suddenly making sense, because of _course_ he is.

Phil pulls back a little after a moment and Dan's breathing is embarrassingly loud considering their lips touched for all of two seconds. He's already thinking of some stupid quip or apology when Phil firms his hand on Dan's face, thumb moving across his cheekbone, as he ducks back in to kiss Dan, and this time it's Phil kissing Dan, and Phil started it, and Dan just – it's clichéd and stupid but he melts into it, reaching out to touch Phil's waist, tugging a little on the stupid scratchy material of his Quidditch robes to get him closer. There's a moment when he thinks Phil might be laughing at him _while_ he's kissing him. Dan almost wants to pull back and say “Rude,” but there's a time and a place and the time is not when Phil's hands on his face are warm and his mouth and tongue are warmer, in fact Dan can't think of a worse time for him to start being awkwardly funny, no, that can wait until at least Thursday, maybe even Friday-

Because the universe hates Dan, that's the exact moment that the changing room door creaks open, bringing with it the sound of echoing voices in the small space and a troop of footsteps that awkwardly come to a halt as Dan and Phil hurriedly spring apart.

“Oh,” Someone says. It's the Ravenclaw Captain, Dan thinks, because of course the Ravenclaws are practicing today, of course they are, and now they're all awkwardly standing around looking at him and Phil. “Sorry, we didn't think anyone'd be in here.”

“Er, no, it's ok, we were just, um, we were going,” Dan says, quickly, his voice sounding a little strangled. Phil looks too mortified to move so Dan grabs him by the arm to drag him out of there. He doesn't even care when he hears someone laugh before the door swings shut.

They rush along deserted corridors for a little while, laughing breathlessly, and Dan's just about to turn and say something to Phil when Phil unexpectedly tugs him behind a tapestry.

“What?” Dan says, surprised. “You and tapestries, I swear to God-”

Except then Phil's sort of walking him up against the wall to kiss him again, and anything about tapestries doesn't seem so important after that.

“We should, um,” Phil says, breathlessly, pulling away. Dan kind of watches his lips move for a second, momentarily incapable of matching mouth movements to the sounds he's hearing. “Er, go back to our common rooms, um, it's late, and, er, oh God,” and stops speaking in favour of kissing Dan's neck, a development that Dan's all in favour of, if he's honest.

It isn't long, however, until they're interrupted by a plaintive little meow. Dan doesn't even need to look to know that Mrs Norris has arrived, and he groans while Phil laughs into his shoulder.

“Are you kidding me?” He says, laughing a little himself. “Are you actually kidding me?”

As if she's replying, Mrs Norris meows again. Regretfully, Phil disentangles himself from Dan.

“We should go,” He says. “Before Filch shows up.”

“Ugh,” Dan says, pulling a face. Even though it's not curfew yet, he knows Filch would jump at the chance to try and give them detention for _something_. “Fine.”

Except then Phil catches hold of his hand and murmurs, “I'll walk you back,” before kissing him again.

“Ok,” Dan says.

-

The walk back to Gryffindor Tower takes significantly longer than it normally would – and not just because now that Dan can kiss Phil, he doesn't see why he shouldn't anymore. He keeps laughing with disbelief, and Phil just grins over at him, pulling him along by the hand.

“I'm sorry, I'm just,” Dan can't even explain what he's feeling. Giddiness, maybe. The last time he felt this light and happy was when he and Louise practiced Cheering Charms the previous week.

Even if he can't explain himself, it seems like Phil understands, because he says, “Me too,” and tugs their joined hands up to his mouth so he can kiss Dan's palm. It feels like it should be stupid, the hand-kissing thing, but there's something about the way Phil looks at him as he does it that makes Dan feel hot all over.

“Oh my God,” He says, laughing again. Maybe this is what hysteria feels like.

“Shut up,” Phil says, suddenly bashful. “You've got a very kissable hand.”

“You've got a very kissable everything,” Dan says without thinking, his voice low, and it's only when there's a pointed cough behind them that they realise they'd got closer to the Gryffindor common room than they thought, and the Fat Lady is extremely unimpressed by the pair of them.

Dan feels himself flush hot with embarrassment, but even that's not enough to quash the giddy, rushing feeling rising inside of him.

“I should go,” Phil says, apologetically. “I, sorry,” He darts forwards to kiss Dan one last time. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, a little dazed. When Phil lets go of his hand, Dan's skin instantly feels cold in all the places they were touching. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Phil smiles, just looking at him for maybe a second too long before he walks away. Dan watches him go, feeling punch-drunk and stupid, but the moment's kind of killed by the Fat Lady watching him.

“Password?” She says, when he turns to face her.

“Kumquats,” He says, hoping he isn't as red in the face as he feels.

“Is that what they're calling it nowadays?” She asks, dryly, swinging forwards to let him in.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is late! I was so unhappy with this yesterday I thought I'd leave it til today to edit (otherwise I would've just found a ton of mistakes in the posted version this morning which is always the worst thing)
> 
> Once again, Eni tolerated me through the panic, the annoying dog loops and the Gerard Way tweets, for which I am eternally grateful <3
> 
> And as ever, a huge thank you to all of you guys. Anyone who's read, left kudos or commented, you're all awesome. I wish I could properly tell you all how much that shit makes my day without sounding like an idiot (but honestly it really does) <3

On Thursday morning, it takes Dan far too long to remember why he feels so happy.

He's caught in the twilight world between sleeping and waking, when it feels like his thoughts are fluttering like butterflies, never lingering long enough for him to be able to pin one down. He knows he has to get up any second – he can hear Alfie and the others yawning and talking in low voices – but he just lies there for another moment with his hangings drawn, enjoying the happy feeling, leftover from some dream, maybe.

When he remembers, he sits up so suddenly it makes him feel dizzy.

“Oh my God,” Alfie says, a few seconds later, when Dan bursts through his hangings and nearly makes him fall over with surprise.

“Sorry,” Dan says, and then starts scrabbling around for a pair of clean socks. He does his best to quash the stupid smile on his face as he goes, but judging by the worried look Alfie gives him he's not sure he succeeds.

You're still gonna die on Saturday, he thinks, sternly, as he sits down to pull on his socks.

But even thinking about the match doesn't bring with it the onslaught of suffocating panic he's become used to over the past few days. It feels distant, somehow, as though the memory of Phil's lips and his hands is cushioning the blow.

“Are you ok?” Alfie asks, uncertainly. When Dan touches a hand to his face, it feels hot. He probably looks like a smiling tomato right now. At least Phil isn't here to see, he thinks – and then he's thinking about Phil again.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Dan says, with a grin.

-

When Dan explains his good mood to Louise (in a series of whispers, laughs and awkward pauses) on the way down to breakfast, she makes a noise that's so loud and high pitched that he thinks some bats in the Forbidden Forest heard and probably think Louise is their long-lost sister.

“Jesus,” He says, clutching his ear and laughing at the looks a bunch of passing third years give them. “Oh my _God_ , Louise.”

But she's too busy clutching his arm and smiling to care.

“You did it,” She says, shaking him a little as they walk. “Oh my God, I can't believe it.” She jostles him a little, making a happy noise, and he can't help but laugh. “I _told_ you, I said it'd be ok, didn't I?”

“No you didn't,” Dan protests. “You just said _it's Phil_ about a million times, which could've meant anything-”

“It meant you should go for it,” Louise says. “And you _did_.”

“I mean, kind of,” Dan says, trying not to smile. It feels like a losing battle this morning. “Like, it was a mutual, like...I dunno.” He feels embarrassed, but it's a strangely nice sort of embarrassment, especially when Louise squeals a little and links arms with him, squeezing his arm tightly. “Shut up, oh my God.”

“No,” Louise says, squeezing his arm tighter. “Let me be happy for you.”

Dan can hardly argue with that when he's pretty much ecstatically happy for himself, so he just hides another smile behind the cuff of his robes.

-

Dan manages to miss Phil at breakfast, through a combination of people wanting to ask him and Louise about the History of Magic homework and sheer bad luck. He ends up drinking coffee and trying to subtly crane his neck to spot Phil along the Hufflepuff table.

It's so weird, he thinks, eating toast absent-mindedly. Just catching sight of Phil's side-profile across the tables as he turns to talk to PJ makes Dan's heart stutter in his chest. Just knowing that Phil's in the same room as him and feels the same way as him makes eating breakfast unnecessarily difficult. He labours over every chew, every mouthful, hindered by the weight of the knowledge of Phil's entire existence.

It's not a _bad_ feeling, it's just...overwhelming. It makes it difficult to keep conversation going with Louise, but he thinks maybe she understands.

“It's like my brain's been replaced with cotton wool,” He tells her as they leave the Great Hall. He'd wanted to linger for as long as possible in the hopes of catching a minute with Phil, but he'd conceded defeat when Louise had pointed out that they only had five minutes to get up to the fifth floor.

“You'll see him at break, don't worry,” She says.

He does. Somehow when Dan stumbles out of Defence Against The Dark Arts an hour later, Phil's waiting for him across the corridor. He's wearing his glasses and he has his hands in the pockets of his robes. Dan's heart feels like it leaps into his mouth at the sight of him.

“You guys go,” Louise says, smiling when Dan looks over at her. “I'll see you in Potions, ok?”

Dan's never appreciated her more than he does in that moment.

He and Phil end up walking around the damp courtyard together, silent amongst the chatter of the other students milling around. Dan can't get over how different everything feels today – how aware he is of the fact that Phil exists. It's not like he wasn't aware before – he's always been a little too preoccupied with Phil, if he's completely honest with himself – but now it's like Phil's a part of him, or something, like they're two pairs of hands and feet and eyes, connected. When Phil raises a hand to fix his fringe Dan almost feels like he should somehow be able to feel his hair under his own fingertips.

It's stupid. Or he'd think it was if he didn't keep catching Phil shooting him these secretive little looks while the two of them aren't speaking.

“Sorry,” He says sheepishly, after a moment when Dan catches his eye and smiles at him.

“It's ok,” Dan says.

“I just,” Phil waves his hand a little. “I feel like everything happened all at once, you know, and now it's like, I should say something cool, or do something cool, I dunno – shut up, I can be cool,” He adds, quickly, when Dan starts laughing before he even finishes speaking.

“I know,” Dan says, grinning at him. He reaches over and grabs Phil's hand before he can change his mind about it. His fingers are cold against Dan's. “You don't have to _try_ , like -” He falters. “I'm basically gonna want to kiss you anyway.”

He feels stupid for saying it like that, but the look on Phil's face makes it worth it, somehow, and the way he squeezes Dan's hand.

“Ok.” Phil says. “That's good, 'cause I'm not all that cool. Unless we're talking, like, temperature, and then I'm freezing.”

Dan snorts.

“Should've worn your gloves,” He tells him, bringing another hand up to cradle Phil's cold fingers. Phil puts his other hand on top of Dan's, and Dan remembers how anything like this had felt impossible this time yesterday.

“God, you're really warm,” Phil says. Dan watches him realise what he said, grinning as he visibly tries to backtrack. “I mean, um. Like, you're warm in terms of, like, your hands, but also...aesthetically warm?”

“Aesthetically warm,” Dan repeats. It dimly registers that if he smiles much more today his face is going to develop a permanent ache.

“You know what I mean,” Phil says. He strokes his fingers back and forth across the back of Dan's hand, and Dan gets caught up looking at his mouth when he bites his lip for a second. “Sorry. I'm just not used to this whole... _thing_ yet.”

“Same,” Dan admits. “But I think that's ok, like, I think this is the bit where we get used to it? Like, like a -”

“Transitional period?” Phil suggests.

“Yeah, like that,” Dan says. He can't stop looking at Phil, but part of him is dimly aware of people looking over at them. He has no idea if it's in his head or not, and no desire to check, but he gets the feeling Phil feels the same.

As if on cue, Phil says, “Do you ever feel like there's a thousand pairs of eyes watching you?”

“You mean like right now?” Dan says. “Yep.”

Phil gives a relieved little sigh.

“I'm glad it's not just me,” He says. Then he groans, frustratedly, and adds, “I really wanted to kiss you this morning. And right now. And, er, most of the time, but I'm worried that group of sixth years over there might hold up numbers rating my technique.”

Dan laughs, pressing his forehead into Phil's shoulder for a second just because he can. When he pulls back, the way Phil's looking at him makes Dan want to kiss him anyway, sixth years be damned.

“We could do something later?” He suggests, helplessly. Phil gives him this look that surprises a laugh out of him, and Dan hits him on the arm. “Oh my God, is this what it's gonna be like forever now? I meant, like, you know, like hot chocolate or a chat or something. Jesus, Phil.”

“I know what you meant,” Phil says, grinning at him. “Er, we could go to the library?”

Dan pulls a face.

“Yeah,” He says, sighing. “I have Potions homework.”

“I didn't mean it like that,” Phil says, rolling his eyes a little.

“How else did you mean it?” Dan says, raising his eyebrows. “I'm not kissing you anywhere within ten metres of Madam Pince.”

“Not even, like, behind a bookshelf?” Phil says. Dan can tell he's not entirely serious because he's only just stifling a smile, so he hits him on the arm. “Ok, ok, worth a try.”

“Ugh,” Dan says, resting his forehead against Phil's shoulder again so Phil can't see him smile. “You're gross.”

“I know,” Phil says, and kisses his ear.

-

As soon as he has absolute, concrete plans to spend time with Phil that evening, Dan feels like time conspires against him to make the rest of the day pass painfully slowly. He's dimly aware of Louise taking notes in each class, which is a blessing considering his own parchment is empty of everything except doodles. He knows she'll let him copy her later – that's why he loves her.

By the time he's wolfed down his dinner that evening and rushed off to the library to meet Phil, he feels like he's way overdue even just a hug at this point. He ends up lingering near the restricted section because it has a good view of the front door, not wanting to sit down until Phil's here.

Except Phil doesn't arrive at the time he'd said. Dan should know, because he keeps checking his watch every five seconds.

I'll give him five minutes, he thinks. Then, when five minutes pass, another five minutes. Then another. After a while, Madam Pince starts shooting him suspicious looks from across the room, but even she can't invent a school rule that stops him standing quietly in the library and minding his own business. Even so, he finds himself hoping that Phil will arrive soon. There's nothing worse than waiting alone for someone, especially someone who's late.

Dan finds himself wishing he'd taken up Louise's offer to accompany him here. He'd thought by saying no he was saving her from third wheel hell, but at least if she was here right now he wouldn't look like such an idiot, standing around on his own.

“No,” He hears a voice say, just as he's considering getting a textbook out and pretending to read it. He checks his watch, agitatedly. “No, that can't be true...”

“That's what I thought,” Another voice says, triumphantly. Dan looks over at the library doors for what feels like the tenth time. He always feels weird about overhearing other people's conversations, but they're talking in carrying, hissing whispers that he can't help but listen to. “But apparently it is. Cathy said the old chaser - what'shername-"

"Emma."

"Yeah, she's furious about the whole thing. 'Cause of course, Howard tried to make out like she wasn't on the team this year 'cause she had dragon pox, but, like, you can recover from that in, what, a week? So he couldn't wait a week for her to get better?”

Dan doesn't move. He's half-frozen in the act of checking his watch again when the first voice speaks again.

“Yeah, but,” They say. Dan thinks it might be Dodie. “Maybe he just decided he didn't want her on the team anymore. He's the Captain, he's allowed to make choices like that-”

“Yeah” The other voice says. “But why not hold tryouts, then?” Dodie doesn't say anything. “See what I mean?”

“But,” Dodie sounds uncertain. Dan doesn't dare to move now in case they hear him and think he's eavesdropping. He's heard around the common room a few times about how unimpressed Emma is about being ousted from the team, but after a while he just stopped paying attention. He knows people can barely believe that he's on the team – he can barely believe it himself, still, but what do they want him to do about it? He's just checking his watch again when Dodie says something that makes his stomach drop. “I mean, Dan and Phil are really good friends. Like, _really_.”

“That's what I thought,” The other voice says. “But apparently as soon as Howard mentioned money that was it, Howell was ready to do anything.”

“No,” Dodie says. “No, that's – I mean, I don't really – from what I've heard about Dan, that can't be right. No way.”

“Apparently,” The other voice says. “I'm just saying what I've heard, that's all. That's why Emma's so pissed off, she knows Howard's going for, like, psychological tactics over actual talent.”

Dan feels like his blood's boiling. He's staring at the library doors without actually seeing them, everything he just heard playing and replaying in his head. In any other situation he thinks he'd just walk away, but he's so angry he can barely breathe, so he recklessly decides to stride around the nearest bookshelf, walking in the direction of the two voices.

It turns out he was right – one of the voices was Dodie. The other's some girl Dan doesn't know, but he's pretty sure she's in Ravenclaw. The two of them are sitting on the floor between two bookshelves, and they look unhappy to see him, to say the least.

“No, no, don't let me stop you,” He says, taking the tiniest amount of satisfaction from their horrified expressions. “It sounds like you were just getting to the good part.”

“Dan,” Dodie says, flushing. “I – it's not -”

“No, it's ok,” Dan says, looking at the Ravenclaw girl, who shifts uncomfortably. “Go on, what were you saying? Jack paid me, right? To do what, exactly?” When she says nothing, he continues. “No, come on, I don't know the story. Which is funny, considering it's meant to have happened to me.”

“It's just what I heard,” The Ravenclaw girl says. “That – well, that the only reason you're on the team is because – because, I mean, everyone knows Lester's, like – obsessed with you-”

“What?” Dan says.

When he looks at Dodie, she's nodding in agreement.

“Sorry,” She says, catching his eye and flushing.

“Right, whatever,” Dan says, feeling his face growing warm all of a sudden. “What does that have to do with Jack supposedly paying me?”

“That's it,” The Ravenclaw girl says. “He paid you to – well, if you're on the team, then Lester's gonna be distracted in the final match, right? If it comes down to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, I mean.” When Dan doesn't say anything, she continues, “So it's not true?”

She sounds so eager to know that Dan thinks he's in danger of yelling.

“Why are you asking me?” He says. “Go back to whoever told you, it sounds like they know more about my life than I do.”

“Dan,” Dodie says, but Dan's already walking away.

-

It's only when he's a few corridors away that he remembers he was only in the library in the first place to meet Phil. His mind's whirring; he barely notices the portraits and students he passes. It's only when he reaches the marble staircase that he realises he's been unconsciously heading to the Quidditch changing rooms. He knows Jack and Dean have been hanging around in there a lot lately, and some of the other Gryffindor team. Dan's been giving the place a wide berth for fear of being exposed to more coloured arrows, but now he's purposefully heading right there.

It's weird to be going back after everything that happened yesterday – when he's pushing open the door he experiences a flash of memory; pain in his finger and the gentle touch of Phil's hand – but it lasts all of half a second before he's in the room and the smell of socks and broom handle polish fills his nose.

“...gonna be fine,” Dean's saying when Dan rounds the corner to where Jack usually gives them their Quidditch talks. They're both sitting down – Jack looks stressed, but Dean's got his feet propped up on another chair and he's eating a bag of Every Flavour Beans. “Oh, hey, Dan.” He frowns. “Is this you actively seeking out a talk on strategy? Run while you still can.”

“I, er,” Dan doesn't know what to say now that he's here. “No. Why am I on the team?”

Jack and Dean blink at him, both wearing similarly bemused expressions.

“Er,” Jack says. “Is everything ok?”

Dan shrugs and repeats, “Why am I on the team?”

“Because you're the emergency substitute,” Jack says, slowly. “And you're a good player, and you said you'd be on the team?”

Dan shakes his head.

“That's it,” He says. “I'm the substitute, that's it?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, slowly.

Dan's anger is rapidly dissipating, quickly replaced by embarrassment. Even so, there's something about what that Ravenclaw girl had said that seems to have some grain of truth in it, something that strikes a note in the back of Dan's mind that resonates, jostling other memories. Jack's strangely casual attitude towards Dan practicing with Phil, the way nobody else in the team ever seemed to question him being there even though he hindered everyone in those early practices...

The way Jack had insisted that he and Dean knew what they were doing, having him on the team.

What was it Thompson had said? _Maybe you got picked as a cheap distraction._

Dan steels himself. He has to ask. If the worst thing that can happen is that they'll laugh at him, then he'll take it.

“It's not, like – you didn't pick me because – because of Phil, did you? Because you thought he'd be distracted by me, or something?”

He feels foolish for saying it out loud, right up until he catches Jack and Dean sharing a nervous look, and all of the pieces fall into place.

“Oh my God,” He says, staring at the two of them. They look sickened with themselves. “Oh my God. Are you serious?”

“We _were_ serious,” Jack admits, quietly. “But that was ages ago. It was a stupid idea, I'm really sorry – _we're_ really sorry.”

“You're telling me,” Dan says, voice low. “That I had to go to all of those training sessions for nothing? All of that – all of your stupid coloured arrows and your plans and whatever, all of that was just – all you wanted me to do was _distract Phil_?”

“At first,” Dean says, weakly.

“Oh, of course,” Dan says, gesturing at Dean. “God, that day when you came to talk to me, when I was waiting for Jenny? What was it you said, you can tell when someone's on a date with the wrong person? Was that all part of the plan?”

“No,” Dean says, alarmed. “No, I meant that, I really did, we never...” He trails off, looking helplessly at Jack.

“We shouldn’t have underestimated you,” Jack continues, quickly. “You’ve come along loads recently, the way you’ve been working with Alfie and Dean, it’s been amazing-“

“Because Phil’s been training me,” Dan says, sharply. “Properly training me, not just waiting for me to _flutter my eyelashes_ , or whatever-“

“It wasn’t like that,” Dean says.

Dan just shakes his head at the pair of them. He feels like he can hear the roar of his pulse loud in his own ears.

It's ridiculous, but even though he's not the best player, it's almost as though part of him really thought Jack had let him be on the team because he saw some hidden potential in him – the same way Phil always says he does, constantly insisting that Dan's a good flier. Now it's obvious that all Jack saw in him was a way to keep Phil's mind off the competition.

“Ok,” Dan says, coming back to himself a little. He's fuming. “Ok, so, like, number one, getting me on the team to distract Phil is the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life, ok? Because even I know that resting your entire game on something so remote and so – so – it's just fucking _stupid_. And number two,” He breathes heavily for a second, trying to convince himself that somehow hexing the pair of them would be a really bad idea. “It's so insulting that you'd think he'd be distracted like that. Honestly. Like – God, he's been training so hard and he's so _good_ , you think having me on the pitch is gonna make a single bit of difference?”

“We don't-” Dean starts.

“If this is all you've been doing,” Dan says, interrupting him. “If this was your _special move_ to win the Cup, or whatever, then I feel really sorry for you. Jesus, I don't believe this.” He runs a hand through his hair, avoiding looking at the pair of them for a moment. “You really – you really think Phil'd let something like _that_ get in the way?”

“We’re really sorry,” Jack says, wretchedly. “Honestly, Dan-“

“Whatever,” Dan says. “Doesn’t matter. I quit.” It'd almost be worth it, if Dan wasn't so angry, because of the looks of horror on their faces. “You’ll just have to find some other Gryffindor to distract the opposition.”

-

All he really wants to do after he's rushed out of the changing rooms and paced blindly around the first floor for a while is to find Phil. Phil'd know exactly what to say, somehow – he always does. Dan knows one word from him would dispel the sickened feeling he has inside, like there's something cold and heavy sitting in the pit of his stomach.

Except Phil's nowhere to be found. He's not even in the greenhouses – Professor Sprout is, but Dan doesn't linger because it's clear she's trying to prune the Venomous Tentacula. The last thing Dan wants is for her to ask him for help, so he leaves pretty quickly, walking back up to the castle with his hands in his pockets, head bowed against the cold wind.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a little prickle of worry forms over how bad the weather's getting. It's quickly squashed by the realisation that he doesn't have to worry anymore because he won't be playing on Saturday – but somehow this only makes him feel worse.

It's unbearable, the thought that Jack and Dean had somehow been watching him and Phil and, what, they'd just started plotting together? Dan's full of warring emotions – humiliation (because now it turns out he really _hadn't_ been good enough at Quidditch to be on the team) and anger (because how dare they underestimate Phil like that? How dare they treat his feelings like a joke? Dan thought they _liked_ Phil, he thought the Quidditch thing was just a friendly rivalry. How wrong can he be?)

The entrance hall has a few people milling around when Dan goes inside, and he can't shake the feeling that they're staring at him. It's a feeling he gets a lot, and normally he comforts himself with the reassurance that he's almost certainly imagining it – because since when has he been important enough to stare at, really. Except today, after the whole thing in the library and then Jack and Dean, he's convinced he isn't imagining it – that they all _know_ , somehow. That everyone knows that he's just the shit Gryffindor Chaser who only got on the team to throw off the opposition.

Hunching his shoulders a little, Dan crosses the entrance hall and rushes up the marble staircase. But instead of heading to the Gryffindor common room he just keeps walking around, trying to find deserted corridors and maybe an empty classroom, part of him keeping an eye out for Phil as he goes.

Louise somehow finds Dan, later. He’d taken refuge in a disused classroom on the fourth floor. All the tables are shoved back against the walls and the chairs are littered around. Dan's sitting on the floor up against the wall, in the perfect position to be able to see the steely grey clouds out of the classroom window, threatening snow.

When the door creaks open, there’s a split second when Dan considers hiding in the supply cupboard in the corner in case it’s Filch and he’s about to get in trouble for breaking some obscure school rule. But it’s just Louise, who doesn’t say anything until she’s shut the classroom door with a click and moved to sit down next to him.

“I’m really pissed off with Jack,” She says.

“Join the club,” Dan says, bitterly. Then, after a moment’s thought, he adds, “How did you know where I was?”

Louise shrugs.

“I ran into PJ in the entrance hall and he said he’d seen you walking up to the fourth floor, so I kind of looked in every classroom."

Dan smiles at that before he can help himself, turning to look at her. She smiles right back at him.

“Thanks,” He says, leaning into her a little.

“No problem,” She says. Then she sighs, her smile fading. “I heard about what happened.”

Dan pulls a face.

“Right,” He says. “What did Jack say? I’d watch out if I were you, he’ll try and recruit you to replace me.” He thinks about that for a moment. “That’d be pretty good actually, Phil loves you.”

“Yeah, I'm sure me falling off a broom would really distract everyone,” Louise says. Then, looking uncomfortable, she adds, “I didn’t hear it from Jack. I, um. PJ told me.”

“Oh,” Dan says. If Louise heard it from PJ, that means it must be common knowledge already. He'd heard in Ancient Runes the other day that some of the younger students were running betting pools on the outcome of the Cup – he wonders if bets on Hufflepuff winning have drastically increased in the past hour. “I forgot how fast word gets around.”

Louise frowns, worriedly.

“Um. Yeah, quite a few people know,” She says, hesitantly. “I mean – I mean a lot of people, really. I thought you knew.”

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Dan says. Then he sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. “Oh, well. At least everyone knows I resigned from the team because Jack and Dean are insane.” He falters at the look on Louise’s face, skin prickling with apprehension all of a sudden. “That’s what everyone’s saying, right?”

“Not exactly,” Louise says, very quietly.

Dan stares at her, and feels like he’s been doused in icy water.

“Oh God,” He says. “They think it's true, don't they? I – I heard some girls talking in the library before, something about Jack paying me – is that-?”

Louise's face says it all.

“Oh God,” Dan groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “That's great. Really fantastic, just what I need, even more people thinking I'm some gross untalented loser who'll do anything for a couple of galleons.”

“It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks,” Louise says, comfortingly.

There's something about the look on her face that makes him falter before he replies.

“That’s not it, is it?” He says, already dreading her response. “There’s something else.”

Louise hesitates for a second, with the air of someone holding a lit match perilously close to a fuse.

“I think you’re gonna have to go and speak to Phil,” She says, tentatively. “Because, erm. PJ seemed to think that’s why you’ve been hanging out with Phil so much lately, because Jack told you to. And – and it sounds like Phil heard about it and he – he thinks it's true.” She swallows. “PJ said he’s really upset.”

Dan’s on his feet before he even properly thinks about moving.

“ _What_?” He says. “But how can he – how – why would he think I'd do that?”

“I don't know,” Louise says, but Dan isn't listening.

“He knows he's my friend,” Dan says. “He – he _knows_ that, that's, like, I mean – apart from anything else, you know? And - I wouldn't do something like this to _anyone_ , never mind _him_ of all people-”

“I know,” Louise says, soothingly, standing up too. “I _know_ , Dan.”

Dan's mind is racing. That explains why Phil didn't meet him in the library, at least. He wonders how long he's been walking around with thoughts of Phil warming his insides while Phil's been somewhere on the other side of the castle, thinking Dan only ever kissed him because Jack told him to.

“Shit,” He says. “Oh my God, I – I’ll have to go and make sure he’s ok. I’ll – I’ll –“ Just the thought of Phil being upset makes Dan feel weird, kind of trapped and helpless, never mind Phil being upset because of him. “I’ll see you in the common room, ok?”

He rushes off, out of the classroom and down the corridor. He’s barely a few classrooms away when Louise catches up with him.

“I’m coming with you,” She tells him, in a tone that brooks no argument. “Moral support.”

-

“Hey,” Dan says, ten minutes later. He and Louise have been lurking agitatedly in the corridor near the kitchens for the past few minutes, and as soon as someone had appeared (a worried looking fifth year carrying a library book), Dan had started talking to them straight away. Apparently he’s more worried about Phil than he is nervous about talking to strangers. “You’re a Hufflepuff, right?” Dan thinks he recognises him from his Charms class.

The guy nods, uncertainly.

“Great,” Dan says. “You know Phil, right? Quidditch Captain? Tall? Kind of, like,” Dan gestures at his forehead. “He has hair like this.”

“Yeah,” The guy says, slowly. He narrows his eyes a little. “Aren’t you that Gryffindor chaser who got paid to hang out with him so you lot could win the Quidditch Cup?”

“That is _not_ what happened,” Dan says, hotly. “It’s a huge misunderstanding, I have to speak to him.”

“Right,” The guy says, sounding unimpressed. Dan’s liking him less and less by the second.

“So can you go and get him, please?” Dan prompts, impatiently, when the guy doesn’t do anything.

He eventually shuffles off, looking over his shoulder at Dan and Louise a couple of times as he goes, as though they’re gonna attack him when his back’s turned.

“Dickhead,” Dan mutters, when he’s out of earshot.

“At least he’s gone to get him,” Louise says, fairly.

“Maybe,” Dan says. “If he hasn’t I’m gonna go down there and try and find their common room entrance myself.”

But it turns out that won’t be necessary, because a few minutes later someone comes back down the corridor. For a second Dan’s worried it’s that guy coming back to look at him suspiciously some more, but it’s not – it’s PJ, who somehow manages to look apologetic from half a corridor away.

“Where is he?” Dan says, urgently, rushing forwards. “I need to speak to him.”

PJ looks unbearably pitying for a second before he speaks.

“He, uh. He told me to tell you that he’s trying to finish an important Herbology essay.”

Dan doesn't know what to say for a moment. He's dimly aware that he's breathing stupidly fast.

“Right,” He says, his voice sounding much calmer than he feels. “Well, can you go back and tell him I only want to talk to him for five minutes?”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” PJ says, uncertainly. “He, er. He doesn't want to speak to you.”

Dan feels like he's fallen into a bad dream. That's almost definitely it – some time after lunch he fell through some sort of wormhole into a nightmare dimension. That's the only plausible explanation for how much of a downwards spiral his day has travelled down.

“What's he actually doing?” Dan asks, rubbing a hand over his eyes for a moment.

“I don’t know,” PJ admits. “He’s hiding out on his bed with the hangings drawn.”

Louise makes a tiny, heartbroken noise.

“Oh, Phil,” She says.

Dan thinks he's maybe seconds away from finding the nearest breakable object and throwing it as hard as he can against the wall. How can Phil believe that he'd only spend time with him because Jack told him to? For Quidditch, of all things? When has Dan ever shown any signs of wanting Gryffindor to win the Cup? And then – what, Phil thinks Dan'd just...he'd just kiss him like that, just to humiliate him? Just to beat him at Quidditch? The thought makes Dan's face burn hot.

There's nothing he wants more than to be able to smash his way into the Hufflepuff common room and up into Phil’s dormitory to explain himself without breaking a million school rules along the way.

“You know it’s not true, right,” He says to PJ. “I never hung out with Phil just because Jack told me to. Can you tell him I said that? Tell him,” Dan's throat feels thick, and he has to stop speaking for a moment until the feeling's gone. “Tell him I thought we were best friends.”

“Ok,” PJ says.

“Thanks,” Dan says, blankly, feeling wretched as he watches PJ walk away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are - potentially the second to last chapter! (I always wanted to finish on a nice neat number like 10 so we'll see idk)
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! And of course thank you so much for the kudos and comments, it baffles and amazes me that people are enjoying this (especially when I've had so much fun writing it, I'm glad we're all happy here tbh) Idk, you're all awesome <3
> 
> (Shout out to Alice, who is now a FREE ELF. I'll have to buy you some socks as a symbolic gift <3)

By the next morning, the news that Gryffindor are a chaser down with a day to go before their match against Ravenclaw has spread like wildfire.

Dan ducks his head as he walks down the corridors on his way to his classes, even though his height doesn’t exactly lend itself to going unnoticed. He tries his best to ignore the stares and the whispers, quietly appreciating the way that Louise keeps up a firm babble of conversation whenever they have to walk anywhere, so he can just keep his eyes safely on the side of her face and focus on responding rather than anything else.

“You should go and talk to him,” She suggests, gently, at one point.

Dan shakes his head, scribbling furiously in the margins of his Charms notes.

“Dan.”

“You heard PJ. He doesn't want to speak to me.”

“So?” Louise says. She touches the back of his hand to stop him scribbling, and he ends up blotting his parchment with ink. “It's just a stupid misunderstanding. You know you could fix it in five seconds-”

Dan looks her in the eye at last and says, “He really thinks I'd use him like that. For _Quidditch_.”

“But he's wrong, isn't he?” Louise says, patiently. “So you should go and speak to him.”

Dan looks at her earnest expression for a moment, then looks back down at his ruined parchment.

Phil hadn't even shown up to breakfast that morning.

Last night, lying awake in bed, Dan had considered getting up early and slipping down to wait in the corridor outside the kitchens. He'd reasoned that Phil had to leave his dormitory at some point, and it was the best way of catching him – but then he'd thought of all the dirty looks he'd have to tolerate from all the passing Hufflepuffs who _weren't_ Phil, playing out this scenario in his mind full of whispers behind hands and scowling faces, and he didn't think he could handle all of that hostility only for Phil to ignore him if he finally appeared.

And then Phil hadn't even shown up for breakfast, and Dan's faced with the idea that Phil's holed himself up in his dormitory for the foreseeable future, so even if he wanted to try and explain himself, he couldn't.

It doesn't make sense. None of it does. The fact that Phil could think so little of him – little enough to assume that some stupid rumour was true - needles at his insides all day like he's swallowed a pin cushion.

Not playing in the match on Saturday is the one thing he thought he'd be relieved about, but even that isn't making him feel any better. If anything, it's making everything worse. That morning, he'd got up extra early and headed down to the common room, just to avoid an inevitable discussion about the whole thing with Alfie. He'd ended up huddled up in the corner by the fire, pretending to be reading a Potions book and ignoring the less-than-subtle whispers of his name across the room when more people started gathering in there before breakfast.

Classes that morning are bearable, simply because Dan can lose himself in the drone of the professors' voices and whatever tasks they've been set, keeping his eyes on the safe space of his desk and only ever looking up at Louise or the board.

At break, Louise suggests that they head down to the courtyard, which sounds like the worst idea in the world to Dan – he ends up pretending he needs the bathroom and telling her he'll meet her down there, before heading back upstairs, against the flow of students headed downstairs to get some fresh air before their next class.

He's just rounding a corner, vaguely headed in the direction of the library, when he sees Dean walking in his direction.

Dan turns on his heel and walks quickly back around the corner, hoping against hope that Dean didn't seen him – but of course he did, because since when has Dan been lucky lately?

“Wait,” Dan hears him call, but that just makes him walk faster. By the time Dean catches up, he's breathless and says, “Stop, stop, can we just...?” He waves a hand, incomprehensibly, catching his breath. “God, you don't even move that fast in the _air_.”

Dan just looks at him, blankly.

“What d'you want?”

Dean sighs.

“Can we talk, for a second? Please?”

Dan makes him wait for a moment before he nods.

“Well,” Dean's evidently surprised that Dan agreed so quickly. “The team-”

“Has nothing to do with me anymore,” Dan finishes.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean says. He sighs again, running a hand through his hair. “Look, the whole...that whole thing yesterday. I just feel like...” He pauses, evidently thoughtful. “I'm not gonna lie, ok, me and Jack, we did talk about the whole – about the Phil thing, when we were, like, discussing tryouts and all of that.” Dan scowls and turns to walk away, but Dean hurries to block his path. “No, no, wait. We – we _mentioned_ it, you know, but it wasn't why your name came up. You're the substitute, it made sense to ask you back onto the team.”

“It made sense to let someone who broke your nose back onto the team?” Dan says, his voice heavy with scepticism. “In your last year, when you guys really want to win?” When Dean doesn't say anything, he adds, “Yeah, exactly.”

“Dan,” Dean says, blocking his way again. “God, I don't know why you're so hung up over the broken nose thing. Jim broke Jack's fingers in practice last year and he's still on the team. Injuries happen in Quidditch, that's just how it is.”

“I'm not hung up about the nose thing,” Dan says, hotly. “I'm kind of more focused on the whole thing where I only made it onto the team as some kind of _honey trap_ -”

“That's not why,” Dean says. “Like I said, we...we considered it. Maybe – maybe we joked about it. And – and I know it was so shit of us to even joke about it, like, people's feelings aren't a joke, but I swear, it wasn't a _plan_ that we had, or anything, not after you were on the team. I _swear_.”

Dan's quiet for a moment, processing all of that.

“And I'm meant to just believe you,” He says, slowly.

“No,” Dean says, shaking his head. “No, I pretty much guessed you wouldn't. I just wanted you to know. Because – yeah, I'm not gonna lie, Jack wants that Cup. Of course he does. So do I. But d'you really think he'd pull something like this to get it? Because he's worked so hard for this, like – I don't think he could live with himself if he didn't win it fair and square.”

“What about Emma?” Dan asks, quickly voicing what's been bothering him. “Why not wait for her to get over her dragon pox instead of putting a substandard player on the team?”

“You're not a substandard player,” Dean says. “You just need more confidence in yourself, that's all. That's literally it. In practices, there's these moments when you forget to be self-conscious and that's when you're at your best.”

“If all this is true,” Dan says. “Why's Jack sent you to say it instead of telling me himself?”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Jack hasn't sent me to do anything,” He says. “Why do people always think that?”

He sounds so exasperated that Dan almost struggles to maintain his deadpan expression.

“Well, he didn't send me,” Dean says, when Dan doesn't say anything. “He's too busy freaking out about tomorrow.”

They're quiet for a moment. Then Dean smiles, a little hesitantly, and says, “I saw you and Phil in the courtyard yesterday. Looked promising.”

Dan's shaking his head before he even finishes speaking.

“Yeah, no,” He says, dully. “He, er. This whole rumour – have you heard the rumour?” Dean frowns and shakes his head, so Dan continues, heavily. “Yeah, so it's going 'round that Jack paid me to hang out with Phil to distract him, or whatever, and – and Phil heard and he thinks it's true, so.” He hopes against hope he sounds like it isn't all that of a big deal, even though he can feel a lump rising in his throat that he's trying desperately to swallow down.

Dean looks horrified.

“Oh God,” He says. “Seriously?”

Dan really wants to say something bitingly sarcastic in response, but he can't even summon the words. He just nods and shoves his hands into the pockets of his robes.

“Shit,” Dean breathes. “I'm – I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Dan says, tonelessly, even though it sort of is. Dan has no idea how the rumour got out and became so warped, but it's not all that far from the truth of the plan that Jack and Dean had discussed, even if they'd only ever mentioned it later on as a joke.

“You know,” Dean says. “That time – when you were going on a date with that Slytherin girl, I – I meant what I said. Honestly. You guys are just...You just make sense, I guess.”

Dan smiles, small and humourless.

“I wish Phil felt like that,” He says.

-

After his encounter with Dean, he ends up taking a little-known route down to the entrance hall that involves a lot of little spiral staircases and tapestries. It's one of Phil's favourite shortcuts down from the fourth floor, Dan knows, but there's no sign of him on the way down. There's no sign of anyone until he gets to the last staircase and hears voices floating up towards him.

Dan pauses uncertainly on the top step, thinking that knowing his luck lately he'll end up overhearing some rumour about how all of the good grades he's ever achieved were all because he bribed every single professor to let him pass, or something.

“Thompson said-”

“Since when does anyone listen to anything Alex Thompson says?” A voice asks, scathingly.

“He's not _that_ bad.”

“Er, yeah, he is,” The voice says. “Anything you've heard from him is guaranteed bullshit, everyone knows that.”

And then when the voices continue, Dan realises he really shouldn't ever tempt fate, because of course they start talking about him.

“Yeah, but,” The first voice says. “That whole thing with Howell-”

“Obviously not true,” The second voice says. It sounds familiar, but he's entirely too focused on the fact that someone seems to actually be defending him to think of who it could be. “Look, Thompson's just sore about all those detentions he got for that foul during the last match, isn't he? So anything he says about Howell or Lester at this point is definitely made up. He just doesn't have anything better to do with his time.”

There's the sound of footsteps, and it takes Dan too long to realise that they're headed up the stairs in his direction, and he has nowhere to hide except behind the tapestry he just emerged from behind, where he'll be discovered immediately. He ends up just standing there in plain sight, trying not to look awkward when the footsteps get closer and someone hurries up the staircase towards him.

It's Jenny. She falters when she catches sight of him.

“Thanks,” He says, sincerely, before she can say anything.

“Sorry?” She says, confused for a second, walking up the rest of the stairs. He sees the moment she realises that he'd overheard. “Oh. Oh, that's fine. I'm sick of hearing about it, to be honest. Anyone with half a brain can tell it's not true.”

“Yeah,” Dan says. “Well, turns out a lot of people have less than half a brain round here, so.”

Jenny shrugs.

“At least you know the truth,” She says. “And – and I know how much you – I've seen the way you are around Lester. Like, when he got hurt? So.”

She's bright red, but then again, Dan thinks he is too.

“That's,” He says, about to spout some denial, but what for? To spare her feelings? It's not like Dan has anything to lose anymore, and besides, he's pretty sure honesty's better in the long run, so he just nods and sighs. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Yeah,” Jenny says, nodding. “So of course you weren't just trying to sabotage him. For what, a couple of galleons? It doesn't make any sense.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, suddenly very grateful for her all of a sudden. “I, erm. Honestly, thank you.”

Jenny shrugs and says, “It's just common sense, isn't it? But, er. I'll try and tell as many people who mention it as I can. That it's rubbish, I mean.” He doesn't quite know what to say that wouldn't sound awkward or stupid, and after a prolonged pause she adds, “Anyway, I should...I've got Defence.”

She hurries off through the tapestry before he can say anything. As he walks downstairs and heads to find Louise, Dan finds himself thinking that if he was ever going to go on a date with the wrong person, he's glad it was her.

-

Dan's appreciation for Jenny made him feel almost warm inside for the few minutes that were left of break, but going back to class is like hitting the ground with a painful bump. He doesn't understand how people can just talk about him as though he's not there, and not even bother to lower their voices. They obviously don't care if he overhears or not.

Well. He knows they don't care. It's plain from the snatches of conversation that wash over him as he sits and minds his own business that the vast majority of people think he's some kind of monster who just played around with Phil's feelings for entertainment. Thinking back to what he overheard, it makes sense that it'd be Thompson who'd be spreading the rumours around, considering the more he hears them the worse they seem to become.

As a result of all the whispers, not-whispers and speculative looks, by lunchtime he’s feeling more than a little sick of everything again. It doesn’t help that he keeps playing over everything in his head – Louise when she’d said that Phil was upset, the look on Jack’s face when he’d resigned from the team, the thought of Phil hiding out in his dormitory, upset and humiliated, thinking that Dan’s been laughing at him this entire time.

Dan’s thinking about that last one in particular when they’re on their way to the Great Hall to eat, Louise holding onto his arm so she doesn’t lose him in the crush of people headed in the same direction. He’s about to say something stupid about how at least he’ll have more time for homework now he’s off the team when someone fights their way through the crowd to get to them.

It’s PJ.

“Hi,” He says, breathlessly, ignoring the indignant yelp coming from a second year he nearly scalped in his hurry to reach them. “Phil’s not going to lunch, he made up some excuse about going down to Greenhouse Four to look after some plant thing of his.”

“Great,” Dan says, dully. Of course – Phil’s probably under as much scrutiny as him over this whole thing. Maybe more – he’s Quidditch Captain, people actually know who he is.

PJ looks at him, a little desperately, and then looks at Louise.

She nudges Dan in the ribs.

“Go and speak to him, you idiot,” She says.

“ _Oh_ ,” Dan says, getting it. “But – he doesn't want to talk to me-”

“He does,” PJ says.

“That's not what you said yesterday.”

“Yeah, well,” PJ says, waving a hand. “That's before I spent all morning watching him moping.”

“I know what you mean,” Louise says, meaningfully.

The two of them share a look of mutual understanding.

“I haven't been moping,” Dan protests.

Louise doesn't even dignify that with a response – she just raises her eyebrows at him.

“Ok, fine, I have,” Dan says. “But – who says he'll even listen to me, who says-”

“It's worth a try, surely?” PJ says, looking at Louise for support.

She rubs Dan's arm and says, “There's no point in you both going around feeling like shit.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, quietly. They're right. He can be as stubbornly hurt as he wants about Phil thinking he's capable of being such a dick when they're supposed to be best friends, but the longer he avoids Phil the worse he'll feel and the more upset Phil's gonna be in the long run, probably.

The last thing Dan ever wants is for Phil to be upset, for any reason.

“I'll – I'll see you guys later, ok?” He says, distractedly, before starting to fight his way through the crowds, heading in the direction of the kitchens.

“Wrong way!” PJ calls after him, voice echoing a little over the babble of chatter in the Entrance Hall. “I said he was in Greenhouse Four!”

But Dan has an idea.

-

“Hi,” Dan says, a few minutes later. He’d hammered his fist on the greenhouse door hard enough to break the glass, so in the end Phil had wrenched the door open, red-faced, evidently planning on giving whoever was banging a severe talking to. Dan practically sees the words die in his throat when he realises who’d been knocking. “I brought you this.”

He hands Phil a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Phil stares at it distrustfully for a second before he takes it.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“I heard somewhere that everything’s better after hot chocolate,” Dan says, tentatively. Phil’s expression is oddly closed-off and guarded, and Dan hates it.

“That sounds pretty stupid,” Phil says, after taking a sip. “Dunno who told you that.”

“Some guy,” Dan says. He watches Phil curling his hands around the mug for warmth. His hands are really dirty. Dan kind of wants to reach out and rub the flecks of compost off his fingers, one by one. “Can I talk to you for a second? Like, out of here? Your plant thing won’t die if you leave it for a few minutes, will it?”

Phil doesn't look very sure.

“That's – that's probably not a good idea,” He says, frowning down at the hot chocolate like it just insulted him. “I, um. I was just pruning it, actually, and after pruning it's better to wait three to five-”

“Phil,” Dan says. It sounds like he's pleading and he doesn't even care.

Phil gives him this tiny, cursory little glance, then looks back at the hot chocolate. Dan almost regrets bringing it for him.

“Well, thanks,” He says, leaning around the greenhouse door so he can set the hot chocolate down on the trestle table just inside the doorway. He starts turning away, and Dan's heart stutters at the thought of being left out here in the cold without being able to explain. “I should-”

“No, wait,” Dan says. He doesn't know where to start now that he's here, especially not when Phil looks so downcast. “Please, I just – I just want to talk to you.”

“If it's about the Quidditch thing,” Phil says, haltingly, turning to face at him properly, at least.

“Of course it's about the Quidditch thing,” Dan says. “Tell me you didn't believe any of that, please. Do you really think I'd do anything like that? To you? I thought,” His words are catching in his throat again, and that's the last thing Dan wants right now, not when Phil's looking at him. “I thought we were friends.”

Phil's quiet for a moment.

“We are,” He says, so tonelessly it isn't exactly a ringing endorsement.

“Oh, ok,” Dan says, feeling himself start to panic. Maybe he can't fix this by explaining, maybe Phil just doesn't want to be with him anymore, in any sense. “Then how could you think I'd do something like that to you? Best friends, you said, and – I don't understand why you'd say it if you didn't mean it.”

“I did mean it,” Phil says, actually sounding like he means it this time. “But that's just it, we're _friends_ , Dan.”

He says it like that's _it_ – like it's self explanatory. Dan frowns, feeling like he's missing something.

“I don't know what you mean,” He says. When Phil just shakes his head and doesn't elaborate, he continues, “I swear, there was never any deal between me and Jack about you. The first I heard about it was in the library yesterday, and then when I went to confront him and Dean about it, well,” Dan shakes his head, as though trying to shake off a fly. Remembering resigning from the team bothers him more than he'd ever thought it would. “I'm not on the team anymore, so that's that. So if they _were_ using me to – to...Well, they can't now.”

“You...what?” Phil says, apparently forgetting not to look Dan in the eye for a moment. “What d'you mean, you're not on the team?”

Dan shrugs.

“I quit.”

“No,” Phil says. “Why would you - you’re a way better player than you think you are, you know that. You’ve worked so hard to get better, you shouldn’t just give it up-“

“It’s nothing to do with how well I play,” Dan says. “They – they were treating us like a joke. You like a joke,” He amends, quickly, before Phil can force out some clichéd stock phrase like _there is no us_. “That's not the kind of team I want to be in.”

“Well, yeah,” Phil says, very quietly. “But – you don’t want all of those training sessions to be a waste of time.”

Dan blinks and says the first thing that comes into his head, which is “Any time I’ve ever spent with you isn’t a _waste_ , Phil.”

“Oh,” Phil says. “Oh, well. Thanks.”

It isn’t quite the response Dan was expecting.

“Seriously,” He says. He has no idea what to say to make Phil listen to him, so he decides to act instead. Except when he reaches out to catch hold of Phil's hand, Phil jerks his cold fingers away at the last minute. Dan's stomach drops and he takes a step backwards, clenching his hand into a fist and feeling like he might throw up.

“You don't have to do that,” Phil says, quietly.

“Don't have to do what?” Dan says, loud enough that a bird that had been pecking the damp ground nearby flies away in surprise. “Hold your hand? Kiss you?” Phil's eyes are wide and it seems like he wants to tell Dan to lower his voice but there's no way, not if this is what it takes to get him to listen. “Because newsflash, Phil, I _want_ to do that shit. I always have. Not because Jack told me to, and not to distract you from Quidditch, because since when have I ever given a shit about that? Just because of _you_.” He stops for a second, breathing fast. The next time he speaks, his voice sounds small and desperate. “I don't understand why you're being like this.”

“Because it doesn't make sense,” Phil says, all of a sudden. “None of it makes sense, I've always – ever since that first day, even if it wasn't...” He shakes his head. “There's always been something about you, ok, always, and – and you've never looked at me twice.” He shrugs, making it all sound so matter-of-fact, and Dan can't even protest before he continues. “Which is fine, I - I never expected to be anything other than your friend. I mean, being friends with you is pretty much perfect, so – so it's not like I felt like I was missing out or anything. I mean, like, I _wanted_ – but it was pretty obvious you didn't, so. Even when I told Louise back in fifth year, she-“

“You told _Louise_?” Dan interrupts.

“I had to tell someone,” Phil says, the colour high in his cheeks. “I felt like – like it was gonna burst out of me if I didn't. And then – this year, it's been like – like, the thought of not seeing you anymore, it's been...” He trails off. “That's why I offered to train you. Like, you should know, it wasn't some selfless act, I – I wanted to spend as much time with you as I could. While I still can, you know?”

This time, when Dan reaches for Phil's hand, he doesn't pull away.

“I don't understand where you're going with this,” Dan says.

“Because,” Phil says. He looks so defeated for some reason, so Dan squeezes his fingers tightly, pulling his hand close. “I was so resigned to the whole – the whole, us being just friends thing, so the other day...”

“I kissed you,” Dan says, in case he's somehow forgotten.

Phil nods.

“And that – it was – it didn't make _sense_ , you know? Like, why would you suddenly...you know, want that with me? But I wasn't gonna, like, second guess it, 'cause, well – I mean, I've wanted to kiss you for a while, you know. Like, a _while_.” He laughs in this humourless, self-deprecating sort of way. “And then – I heard about the whole Jack thing, and I just...”

“And that made more sense,” Dan surmises, dully. “Jack paying me made more sense than me wanting to be with you just because I want to.”

Phil shrugs, avoiding Dan's eye.

Dan's quiet for a moment, his brain whirring in overdrive.

“I don't believe you,” He says, eventually. “Like – why on earth...” He shakes his head. “You're always going on about how I need to have confidence in myself and then, what, you just think you've got no chance with me at all?”

“It's not like that,” Phil protests. “I _have_ confidence, I just – God, you must’ve noticed that literally everyone fancies you, Dan.”

Dan can’t even believe he’s having this conversation.

“No,” He says. “I haven’t noticed that, because they don’t.” Phil makes an unimpressed noise of disagreement, so Dan carries on before he can interrupt. “Phil, come on! You’re-“ He gestures wildly in Phil’s direction, and then struggles to come up with exactly what Phil is. “You’re – you’re kind and you’re clever and funny, and you’re a fucking _Quidditch Captain_ , and that first day I was so scared on my own and you just – you just helped me out, just because.” He pauses for a moment. “And I’ve thought about it a lot since, how nice you were to me, and, like. It’s just because you’re you. Because first years are annoying little shits, I wouldn’t go near one if you paid me, and I _was_ one, and you – you just helped me out. And you didn’t even have to stay friends with me, or anything, but you did.”

“I always would’ve stayed friends with you,” Phil says. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. I always would’ve.”

“You don’t give _yourself_ enough credit,” Dan insists. “I can’t _believe_ you. Of _course_ I want to kiss you, of course I – I'd be mad _not_ to want to. God. The way you see yourself is such bullshit, d'you know that?”

“I'm being stupid,” Phil says, but he makes it sound like a question.

“Fucking yeah, you're being stupid,” Dan says, and pulls him into a hug. He presses his face into the side of Phil's neck for a moment, just breathing, eyes squeezed closed. Feeling like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders is an understatement – he feels like some unbearably loud roaring sound in the back of his mind that was making it so hard for him to concentrate has suddenly been shut off, and he can hear himself think again. He feels tired, all of a sudden, as though his worry was powering him along and now it's gone he could sleep for a week.

When he speaks again, his voice is muffled against Phil's skin. “Don't do that to me again, ok? I thought you hated me.”

“Jesus,” Phil says, and hugs Dan tighter. “How could I ever hate you?”

“I don't know,” Dan says, pulling back a little. “I just – one minute we were fine and the next you didn't want to talk to me and you were sending PJ out to give me messages, fucking hell, Phil.”

“I was kind of a mess,” Phil says, apologetically. He touches Dan’s cheekbone with his thumb, probably wiping dirt on him. Dan’s never cared about anything less in his life. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” Dan says, softly, reaching up to touch Phil's hand where it's resting on his face. “Just. Don't ever think that – that me wanting you is somehow unbelievable, alright?”

“Just need to get used to it,” Phil says, moving in close. When their noses touch, Dan closes his eyes.

“Transitional period, right?” He says.

“Yep,” Phil says, so quietly Dan feels the word as a breath. Then he laughs a little, stroking Dan's cheekbone in this unbearably distracting way. “I got dirt on you.”

“I honestly don't care,” Dan says, before he leans in to kiss him.

-

“I don't know about this,” Dan says, stepping away from the changing room doors for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Phil's just standing there, leaning up against the wall with his arms folded. Dan wishes he wouldn't look like that all the time – like, well, _himself_ – because it just makes Dan want to be all over him. Especially when he's wearing his glasses. He hadn't even been wearing them earlier, but then Dan had maybe mentioned how much he liked them before he'd rushed off to Care of Magical Creatures, and by the time he and Louise were traipsing up to the Great Hall for dinner Phil was sitting over at the Hufflepuff table with PJ, miraculously wearing his glasses and grinning at Dan across the tables.

Dan thinks maybe he's created a monster, but he honestly couldn't be happier about it.

Only not right now, because unfortunately there are more pressing matters at hand. Namely, him agreeing to rejoin the Gryffindor team and play in the match tomorrow.

“Do you regret resigning from the team?” Phil says, simply.

“Yeah, but-”

“And do you want to show everyone how hard you've been training?”

Dan rolls his eyes and says, “ _Yeah_ , but-”

“And do you want to win the Quidditch Cup?”

“Hah,” Dan says. “No. I want you to win it.”

Phil shakes his head like Dan's a lost cause, but it's obvious from the way he smiles that he's pleased.

“Two out of three isn't bad,” He says, nodding towards the changing room door. “Go on.”

“Phil,” Dan says, feeling like he's missing the point. “What part of _they asked me to be on the team to distract you in the final match_ isn't registering with you right now?”

“I thought you said Dean said that was never their plan,” Phil points out. “And they only ever said it as a joke?”

“Well, yeah,” Dan says. Trust Phil to pay attention to the stuff Dan doesn't want him to remember. Usually in regular conversation he tunes out before chiming in with an anecdote about butterflies or something. It's one of the things Dan likes the most about him. “They made a joke out of – out of _you_ , Phil. That's not ok.”

Phil shrugs.

“I'm not bothered,” He says.

“Well, I am,” Dan says, stubbornly.

“And I'm not,” Phil says. “Look, now that we're – we're, you know-”

“Kissing buddies,” Dan says, stupidly, then laughs at the entirely unimpressed look on Phil's face. “Ok, ok, no, bad joke, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Phil says. “So I don't care about them making jokes about how much I fancy you. 'Cause it's only the truth, isn't it?”

He says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, the way Louise sounds when she's reading her notes aloud in the hopes of remembering them better. Just stating plain, provable fact. Dan can barely believe his luck.

“Yeah,” He says, faintly, getting even more distracted when Phil smiles. How does he even do that? It feels like all of the lights in the corridor should've dimmed in comparison, or something.

“Go on, then,” Phil says, nodding towards the door again.

Dan sighs.

“Fine,” He mutters, pushing the changing room door open at last. “But you owe me big ti- what the hell?”

“Ouch, Jesus,” A muffled voice says from behind the door, which won't open. Dan tries to push it a little harder, and there's a thud and a yelp.

“You're standing on my robes,” A voice that sounds like Jack hisses.

“Am I bleeding?” Dean's voice comes next, sounding muffled and panicked. “Oh my God, am I bleeding?”

“Dean, seriously, I can't breathe,” Jack says, sounding a little choked up.

When Dan pushes the door a little more, with some awkward shuffling, Dean and Jack emerge guiltily from where they were blatantly listening at the changing room door this entire time. Dean's clutching his nose and Jack's massaging his throat.

“Dan,” Jack says, weakly.

“What a surprise,” Dean says, still holding his nose.

“How long were you standing there?” Phil asks, evidently amused, coming to stand next to Dan in the doorway.

“Standing where?” Jack says. When Dean gives him a look, he adds, “About five minutes. We heard voices, sorry.” Then, looking at the pair of them, Jack gulps visibly and says, “Look, guys, I really am sorry. Like -”

“It's fine,” Phil says.

“He's more fine with it than me,” Dan says. “And when he destroys us in the final-”

“If,” Jack and Phil say in unison.

“Touch wood,” Phil says, reaching across Dan to touch the changing room door. Jack does the same thing, face a mask of utter solemnity.

Dean catches Dan's eye and says, with a long-suffering air, “Quidditch Captains.”

Dan snorts, and starts laughing.

“No, no, shut up, this is a serious thing,” He says, looking at Jack, whose smile fades a little. “Look. Dean told me you guys didn't have a proper plan to distract Phil-”

“We didn't, I swear,” Jack says, in a rush. “It just took us by surprise yesterday when you mentioned it like that because, well – we mentioned it in the beginning, but, like, after you were on the team it was like-”

“A joke, I know,” Dan says, making it plain how unimpressed he is by that.

“Which was so shit of us,” Jack says. “But you have to believe me, I'd never want to win unless it was 'cause I'd managed a great team.”

He sounds so earnest that Dan can't help but believe him. Even if he's not happy about the whole joke thing, he believes him, just like that.

“Right, yeah,” He says, not wanting to let him off too lightly. “But I swear, if there's even a hint of – of underhand strategy after this, even if it doesn't involve me or Phil, I'm out.”

Jack blinks and says, “Does this mean you'll play tomorrow?”

“If I think you're pulling _any_ kind of underhand-”

Dan's sentence is cut off when Jack leaps forwards to give him a bone-breaking hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you,” He says, in a rush. “Oh my God, thank you, I was putting off going to ask Emma to rejoin 'cause you know she would've made me beg or apologize or something, oh God, thank you-”

“Yeah, ok, that's great, I don't think he can breathe,” Dean says, tugging at Jack's shoulder until he lets Dan go. “Also, you know, you wouldn't want to, er, make his _kissing buddy_ jealous.”

Phil makes a weird spluttering noise that turns out to be a laugh, quickly hidden behind his hand.

Dan grins at him, his face hot, and says to Dean, “Are you really gonna start that shit _just_ after I agreed to be back on the team?”

“No, he's not,” Jack says. “Shut the fuck up, Dean.”

Dean raises his eyebrows and mimes pulling a zip shut across his mouth. Dan waves his middle finger in his direction and says, “Well, if that's all sorted, we're just gonna, er, go. See you guys tomorrow?”

“Don't stay up too late!” Jack calls after them as they're rushing off down the corridor.

-

Dan's doesn't sleep a wink that night.

And not because of Phil, no – it turns out no amount of kissing can truly take a person's mind off their imminent death by Quidditch. Not even if the person doing the kissing is Phil – Phil, whose new favourite thing is to nip Dan's bottom lip when he least expects it, just because of the embarrassing noise Dan can't help but make every single time he does it.

No, Dan had ended up going to bed early. He'd walked Phil back to the Hufflepuff common room, and Phil had insisted on holding his hand the entire way there. The mystified looks on the faces of passers-by who'd evidently heard all of the rumours made the whole thing a million times better.

Back in his dormitory, he ends up spending the sleepless hours alternating between falling into happy little fantasies where he and Phil go on dates to Hogsmeade and staring up at his canopy, every muscle taut with panic. He kicks the bedcovers off his legs and tries and fails not to come up with half a dozen scenarios in which he falls off his broom, or gets hit in the face by the Quaffle, or gets hit by a bludger. The more time goes on, the worse it gets.

He does sleep a little, at some point, but it's the insubstantial, wispy sort of sleep that has him waking up every time he turns over, it seems. He's almost relieved when he starts to hear the dawn chorus, because at least that means he doesn't have to try and sleep anymore.

_Almost_ relieved. Because of course, the arrival of the dawn brings with it fresh dread. Now there's no time at all before the match – six hours, five hours, four...

It's still dark outside when he finally gives up and decides to get dressed, but at least he's not alone. When he slips out of his closed hangings, it's to find Alfie, sitting on his bed and pulling on his socks. Dan doesn't even know what to say to him, so he just starts getting dressed in silence, too.

By the time they make the mutual (and completely silent) decision to head down to the common room, dawn's already creeping across the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.

Down in the common room, Zoe's already awake, perched on the arm of the sofa that Dan and Louise usually sit on.

“Oh, good,” She says, getting up. “Jack and Dean just went down for breakfast. Joe and Jim'll probably be down any minute – how are you two?”

“Starving,” Alfie says, going over to kiss her on the cheek.

“Oh God, no,” Zoe says, touching her stomach and pulling a face. She looks a little pale and nervous, which makes Dan feel infinitesimally better. “I couldn't eat anything.”

“Me neither,” Dan says. His voice sounds weirdly croaky, so he clears his throat.

“It'll be ok,” She says, gently. “Oh – Louise is up, she should be down soon too. Should we go?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'll follow you guys,” Dan says, vaguely.

Alfie pats Dan on the shoulder and Zoe gives him a sympathetic smile before the pair of them climb out of the portrait hole. Dan finds himself sinking into the nearest armchair, his knees suddenly feeling weak. He leans his elbows on them, hooking his hands behind his head and staring down at the faded carpet.

This is it, he thinks. And either they win and he has to play against Phil, or they lose and they don't play again, unless Hufflepuff lose spectacularly, which Dan doesn't see happening, somehow.

He tries taking deep, slow breaths in and out, but they sound shaky and uneven, no matter how hard he tries. He feels like he has half a dozen Doxys fluttering around in his ribcage, gnawing at his insides with their tiny sharp teeth.

He just has to calm down, that's all. He's about to start trying to breathe deeply again when the portrait hole swings back open, and he quickly sits up, trying to seem as calm as possible.

It's just Zoe, sticking her head back in to say, “Dan, are you coming? Only Phil's waiting out here and he says he won't go down and get anything to eat until you come out.”

Dan breathes out a laugh without really meaning to and says, “Yeah, I'm on my way.”

As soon as he climbs out of the portrait hole (an activity which doesn't exactly lend itself to grace and attractiveness, which is brilliant when Phil's there to witness him blundering around), Phil grabs hold of his hand.

“You're freaking out,” He says, looking worried.

“Well observed,” Dan says, dryly. “What's your next trick?”

Phil just gives him this look, stroking his thumb up and down the side of his hand, and all of the false bravado leaks out of Dan like a punctured balloon deflating. “

Sorry,” He mutters. “Yep, totally freaking out, one hundred percent, like, literally, just kill me.”

“Nope,” Phil says, lightly, and darts forwards to kiss him. “You're gonna be fine.”

“Er,” Zoe says. “We're just gonna, er, we'll meet you guys down there, ok?”

Dan and Phil ignore them.

“I think I'm gonna throw up,” Dan says.

“No you're not,” Phil says. He reaches out to touch Dan's shoulder with his free hand, brushing off lint the way Dan's mum always does. “You'll be fine. You worked hard for this, and you're gonna be ok, and afterwards when there's an after party up here-”

“Oh, don't,” Dan says, his stomach turning. He can't even think of anything happening after the match – Dan's worry about it is so large in his mind that nothing else seems to exist beyond it.

“When there's an after party,” Phil repeats, firmly. “Louise has promised to sneak me in.”

“I'll pretend I didn't hear that,” The Fat Lady says suddenly, making Dan jump.

Phil just laughs and pulls him along the corridor and down the stairs.

“How's Louise sneaking you in?” Dan asks, curiously, when they're out of earshot of nosy paintings.

“It's a secret,” Phil says, raising his eyebrows. When Dan just looks at him, he adds, “Disillusionment Charm.”

“Oh my God,” Dan says, smiling involuntarily when Phil grins over at him. “So you're gonna break half the school rules just to go to some shit after party?”

“Well, if you don't _want_ me to,” Phil says.

“No, no, I do,” Dan says, quickly stopping for a second to pull him close. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to how it feels to be able to just touch Phil when he wants to – to know for sure he isn't gonna get shrugged off or horribly rejected. “What if we lose?” He asks, quietly enough that he can pretend he said something else if Phil doesn't hear.

But of course Phil hears, somehow.

“Then I'll sneak in anyway,” Phil says, pulling back. “You know there's seven people on a Quidditch team, right? The match isn't just down to you. There's six other people out there. Not everything has to be your responsibility.”

“I know,” Dan says, heavily. “I'm just being stupid.”

“No you're not,” Phil says. He digs his hand in his pocket for a second, adding, “I was gonna wait until right before the match to give you this, but – well, there's nobody around now, so,” And he motions at Dan until he offers him his palm, after which he drops a weird looking coin into it.

Dan pinches it between his thumb and forefinger and squints at it. It's small and copper and looks like a knut, but maybe a little bigger. The metal feels weird under his fingertips.

“Thanks,” He says, remembering his manners at the last minute. Then, worrying about offending Phil with his cluelessness, he asks, “What is it?”

Phil grins at him.

“Muggle money,” He says. “Oh, don't worry,” He adds, when Dan tries to give it him back. “It's barely worth anything, but it's – well, it's lucky.”

“Lucky,” Dan repeats, looking at the coin. “Lucky, like, Felix Felicis lucky? Because that's illegal, Phil-”

“Lucky like stupid Phil lucky,” Phil says, squeezing Dan's hand closed around the coin. “It's my lucky penny. We – it's not like – it's a muggle thing, like, pennies are lucky sometimes.” When Dan frowns, still not getting it, Phil explains. “I found it on the way to King's Cross in September, and I thought – well, you know, everyone needs luck, right? And then, well,” He smiles. “I've had a pretty great year so far, wouldn't you say?”

Dan huffs a little and says, “Well, except for the whole thing where this week's been, like, the biggest emotional rollercoaster of our lives.”

“Except for that,” Phil agrees. He looks doubtful for a second. “I know it's stupid, I just – well, I've got everything I wanted now, so. I don't need it anymore.”

Dan feels himself flush.

“Everything,” He says, after a moment, because apparently he's unable to let sentimental moments just _happen_. “You're telling me you don't want great NEWT results, or – or the Quidditch Cup-”

“I've got everything I needed luck for,” Phil amends, rolling his eyes a little. “So you can have it now.” He shrugs, suddenly looking a little bashful. “I just wanted to give you _something_ , I dunno.”

“No, no, it's great,” Dan says, squeezing the penny tightly in his closed fist. “I can go up there with all of that premium Quidditch Captain luck now, right?”

“Right,” Phil agrees. He's getting that strangely soft look in his eyes, the look that Dan loves so much – the look that he'd spent so long convincing himself was just a look that friends share between each other. Dan's just about to touch a hand to the short hairs at the back of Phil's head (because feeling how soft they are under his fingers right before he kisses Phil is fast becoming his favourite thing) when a voice says, “Oh thank God, I thought I'd missed you guys!”

It's Louise, rushing down the stairs towards them – her bag clutched in one hand and mascara in the other. Dan gives the lucky penny one last squeeze in his hand before shoving it in his pocket.

“I told Zoe to wake me up,” Louise says, coming to a halt in between them. “Oh God, sorry, my shoe's not on, can you hold this-” She hands Dan her bag and leans on Phil's shoulder for a second to pull her shoe on properly. “I wanted to be up early enough to – to make sure you're ok, and – are you ok?”

She's giving Dan this wide-eyed concerned look, and even though Dan still thinks he might throw up, and he still has the persistent flutter of nerves in his stomach, he knows, somehow, that everything's gonna be ok.

If they win, then Dan has Phil. If they lose, Dan still has Phil. Nothing else really seems all that important, in the scheme of things.

“Yeah,” Dan says, finally, catching Phil's eye for a second before grinning at Louise. “Yeah, I'm great.”


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's late! But it's hugely long, if that's any consolation?
> 
> This is the end! Ngl, I got emotional editing this one because I'm a sad nerd. I can't quite believe I've completed a practically novel-length phan Harry Potter AU. Like...what on earth. And now I'm gonna sleep for a week (in my dreams)
> 
> HUGE thanks to EVERYONE. All of you guys. You've made writing this fic even more fun than it already was, and I appreciate every kudos and every bit of feedback and just everything. Thank you all so much <3
> 
> Special (final) shout outs to Alice, who's officially the first person to ever read this bc I think I sent her an early, early excerpt literally three years ago. You know I wouldn't ever have written phanfic without you, girl <3  
> Cristina, you're lovely as ever, and you know this one was meant for you <3  
> And Eni! Maybe the best thing to come out of this fic is the fact that I made a friend?? Honestly the most unexpected but brilliant thing. You're fab <3
> 
> Enough of this mushy stuff anyway - on with the last chapter!

There's a photograph on Dan's bedside table at home.

PJ took it. Dan doesn't remember posing for it, or anything – he just dimly remembers all the camera flashes happening in the background.

In most photographs of Dan, the little photo version of himself tends to slouch, occasionally reverting back to the original pose before apparently being overcome with self-consciousness – usually fixing his hair, in more recent pictures. As a result most of the photos end up having the same sort of awkwardly fixed smile.

There's a row of pictures that lead down the stairs at home that act as evidence to this phenomenon. Dan's mum has insisted on taking one of him in his uniform every year before school starts, usually just after he's had his robes altered in August. They're painfully embarrassing. Every morning that summer, Dan's walked past the five of them, determinedly averting his eyes from their identical forced grins until he reaches the safety of the bottom of the stairs.

Long story short, Dan doesn't ever have high expectations for magical photographs of himself. He's too awkward for them, he thinks. The only one he's ever seen that didn't make him cringe is the one on his bedside table, but Dan thinks that's mostly because Phil's in it.

Phil looks great in photos, as a rule. Not that he'd agree, Dan knows, but Dan also knows that he's wrong. There's just something about Phil's smile that's always going to make Dan want to smile too, and that's what it's like in this particular photograph – Phil's holding the Quidditch Cup, and there are so many people jostling in and out of the frame. Dan remembers that moment – everyone clamouring to congratulate the Hufflepuff team, several of whom had been reduced to overwhelmed tears. Phil hadn't cried, but Dan's never seen him smile like that before in his life.

Phil said later that he'd been afraid to be happy about it when he'd spotted Dan across the pitch with the Gryffindor team, almost as though in the past forty minutes in the air Dan would've suddenly changed his mind completely about wanting Hufflepuff to win the cup. Except of course, Dan could barely breathe with how happy he was, barely restraining himself from screeching like some of the younger Hufflepuffs that had swarmed the pitch – because Phil had _done it_ , he'd won the Cup at last, and Dan honestly couldn't think of anyone who'd ever deserved it more.

Dan had kissed him, right there on the pitch. Or he thinks he did. It was the sort of day where Dan was so giddy with happiness that the details get a little fuzzy in the retelling, but he thinks he did. He remembers throwing an arm around Phil's neck just so he could say “You're amazing, you're so amazing,” in his ear. He remembers Phil hugging him, because people nearby had clapped and cheered that, for some reason.

When they'd brought out the Quidditch Cup, Dan tried to detach himself from Phil so that the Hufflepuff team could have their moment, but Phil just didn't let him go. The team had ended up swarming around the two of them, jittery and smiling and hugging each other with glee.

The photo must've been taken in the ensuing chaos, because there's so much happening in the background that Dan can't keep track – the only thing he really ever notices is him and Phil. Phil's smiling like he just won a thousand galleons and experienced fifty Christmases and birthdays all at once, and Dan's just – Dan's looking at Phil.

Sometimes, Dan doesn't like how stupidly adoring he looks in the photo. But most of the time when he catches sight of the photo (usually when he first wakes up in a morning), he looks at Phil's face – his brilliant, ecstatically happy face – and when he looks at his photo-self's heart-eyes he thinks, _same_.

-

It's been a strange summer of waiting. Waiting for owls from Phil, waiting for Louise's head to pop up in the living room fire, waiting for OWL results.

He didn't expect to miss Phil as much as he has, if he's honest. Of course, he always misses Phil over the summer, but they've always written to each other when they haven't been in school. Dan just assumed it'd be the same as it always was – missing Phil, but just getting on with everything.

It turns out it's a little different, him and Phil being together and then missing him. It's the kind of distinction that finds Dan walking to the muggle phone box five streets away every other day just so he and Phil can talk.

“It's like the world's smallest toilet cubicle,” Dan had said, one of the first times he'd called. “Do people actually use these things? It kind of _smells_ like a toilet, too.”

Phil had laughed and apologized, and assured him that people didn't generally use phone boxes as toilets (although in the same breath he'd also told Dan that he should wash his hands as soon as he got home, which didn't exactly fill him with confidence).

Halfway through July, Phil gets a month's internship at some conservation programme in Brazil, of all places.

“ _Where?_ ”

“Brazil,” Phil repeats, excitedly. “It's mad, isn't it? I've never been. They want aspiring Herbologists to, like, catalogue unknown species in the rainforest? And, like, conserve...things? I dunno. But Professor Sprout wrote me this amazing letter of recommendation, because they're not technically supposed to take people on until their NEWT results are confirmed, and I dunno what she said but they sent me this owl and they're really impressed?”

“Oh my God, Phil,” Dan says. “Seriously? That's amazing. Of course they were gonna take you on, didn't you get an O in your Herbology OWL?”

“Well, yeah,” Phil says. “But – God, I just can't believe it. They want me to travel out there as soon as possible, for, like, a month, I think? And I'll get to – I dunno. Do Herbology stuff? I only just got the owl but I had to tell you.”

Dan has to close his eyes for a second at that, because of the wave of wanting that hits him so powerfully in that moment. Just wanting to be able to hug Phil and congratulate him properly, and _see_ how undoubtedly happy he is, rather than having to hear it.

“It's amazing,” He says. “Seriously. Just – don't get eaten by a tropical plant, please.”

“I won't,” Phil says. “How would I come and visit you if I got eaten?”

“Exactly,” Dan says. “So be careful.”

And then Dan has another thing to wait for on top of everything else – waiting for Phil to come back home. They can't talk on the phone while he's in Brazil – Dan can only assume he's staying with the wizarding community over there, and they don't have muggle telephones – but he still sends letters, even if they take longer to arrive. The birds Phil sends are sometimes bigger than owls, and usually stick around in the kitchen at home to recover for a few days before they fly back.

Phil's letters about the rainforest make Dan wish more than anything that he could be with him, even if he is surrounded by several hundred lethal species of magical plant. They also throw Dan's own summer plans into stark relief.

“He's in the Amazon rainforest,” Dan says to Louise via Floo Network one day. “And I'm doing what? Selling people beetle eyes.”

Dan's parents had apparently got tired of coming home from work every evening to find Dan usually sitting in the same position they'd left him in that morning, and they'd teamed up to find him a summer job in the apothecary down the road. Until he started working there, Dan hadn't set foot in the place for years – he remembers his mum taking him with her to buy potion ingredients when he was little. He'd been fascinated, because from the outside it looks just like an abandoned house, with boarded up windows, an overgrown front garden and a crumbling roof.

“One thing I've always been good at is them charms what repel muggles,” The old witch who owns the apothecary told Dan on his first day, after he awkwardly complimented the shop's uninviting exterior.

Dan's job in the shop largely involves nodding in an interested sort of way when she tells the same story about medieval witch hunts and dealing with customers – a good portion of whom are just as old as the shop's owner. One particularly memorable old man even has an ear trumpet, and yells at Dan like he's standing five Quidditch pitches away.

“I thought you liked working there?” Louise asks. She's sitting cross-legged on the hearth rug, a position that Dan (and his numb knees) dimly envies.

“I do,” Dan says, sighing. “I mean, it's alright. I'm getting paid, and all that. But he's – he's in the rainforest! You know, actually making a difference.”

“How do you know those old witches you serve don't think _you're_ making a difference?” Louise says, grinning at him. When he takes a little while to smile back, she continues, “He's not gonna be there forever. I thought he was back in, like, a week?”

“Nine days,” Dan corrects her, automatically.

Louise gives him a look.

“Shut up,” He adds, feeling his face grow hot. At least he can blame the fire for that in situations like this. “I just. I just-”

“You just miss him, that's all,” Louise says, gently. “And that's fine. I miss him too. Both of you. I mean, like,” She pauses. “Not in the same way you miss each other, obviously, but, like. I do.”

“I miss you too,” Dan says, sincerely. “But hey – when OWL results come out-”

“Oh God, don't,” Louise says, clutching a hand to her chest.

“-well, Phil's been on about coming with me to Diagon Alley to get school stuff. So if we, like, coordinate the dates, you could go at the same time, and we'd get to see you.”

“I probably won't need to get school stuff,” Louise says, darkly. “My OWL results are probably so bad they're gonna just politely ask me to never come back.”

“ _Louise_ ,” Dan says. Then, after a second, he adds, “Same, actually. How about we become, like, travelling broom salesmen, or something. I'm getting tons of retail experience, I think we'd be great.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Louise says, smiling at him.

-

After Phil gets back from Brazil, everything seems to happen very quickly. Dan feels as though Phil left the country suspended in treacle in his absence, everything moving unbearably slowly, and as soon as he set foot back home time started moving at a regular speed again.

OWL results day comes and goes, and the world doesn't end, which is almost a surprise after how much Dan's been worrying about it.

“What did you get?” Dan asks Phil, the evening of results day.

Phil's very quiet for a moment, and Dan's heart twists unpleasantly.

“I, erm,” He says, after an excruciating pause. “Like. I got an O.”

Dan lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding in relief and says, “Yes! In what?”

“Herbology.”

“Of course,” Dan says, grinning. “I knew you would! What about everything else?”

“Erm, an O in Care of Magical Creatures, and, like, mostly Es and As?” Phil says. Dan makes a stupid noise halfway between a whoop and a laugh, and Phil snorts down the phone line at him. “I know right, I can't believe it! I keep thinking I'm gonna get a follow-up owl like _no, we sent you the wrong results, you actually got all Ts_...”

“Phil,” Dan says. “Those are definitely your results. But I totally felt like that earlier, not gonna lie.”

“Oh God, yeah, what did you get?”

“I, erm, I didn't _fail_ anything,” Dan says. He'll never understand this feeling he gets sometimes when it comes to grades – as though he needs to keep them to himself, even if they were actually good. “And I – I actually got an O in Ancient Runes, so-”

“Oh my God,” Phil says. “See, I told you you'd be ok!”

“I told _you_ you'd be ok,” Dan says, admiringly. “You know you can get whatever job you want now, right? The Brazilian Ministry are gonna be tripping over themselves to get you back over there now.”

“Maybe,” Phil says, modestly. “But I dunno if I'd want to be out there for long, you know?”

The selfish part of Dan that never wants Phil to go too far away from him agrees wholeheartedly with that, but the rest of Dan – the parts that know how hard Phil worked for those NEWTs, and how much he deserves to be doing something brilliant – says, “But it's _Brazil_. Like, that's amazing.”

“I know,” Phil says, simply. “But I can always just do a couple of months here and there. Like, a freelance thing. And then – then I'd still get to come and see you.”

Dan's flippant response catches in his throat.

“You don't have to give up some perfect job just because of _that_ ,” He says instead.

“It's not a perfect job,” Phil says. Dan snorts in disbelief, so Phil continues, “It's not! I mean, it's a beautiful place, and the Ministry headquarters are fascinating, and, like – being able to work with all those different species of plants was, like – I dunno, but-”

“But you'd rather stick around here to see me?” Dan finishes, his tone heavy with scepticism.

“Yeah,” Phil says, simply. When Dan doesn't say anything, he adds, “Not just that, I mean, like. There's always the Department For The Regulation And Control Of Magical Creatures, isn't there? Moving to London's less of a leap than Brazil, isn't it? As, like, a start.”

“London's, like,” Dan says, slowly. “Less than an hour away. From my house.”

“I know,” Phil says, and Dan can hear that he's smiling. “I'll be there so often you'll get tired of me.”

“Never gonna happen,” Dan says, closing his eyes for a second and grinning to himself, just because nobody's around to see him.

-

Dan's still riding on the high of his OWL results when he tells his parents about Phil offering to take him to Diagon Alley to get his school stuff. The timing's perfect – initially, they barely bat an eyelid. Dan knows they're both so busy at work that anyone else taking him into London is preferable, and he just about resists the urge to do a victory lap of the dining room when they give their approval.

Except then the questions start.

“So he works for the Ministry?” Dan's mum wants to know.

“Yeah,” Dan says, even though he's not sure if that's true. Hurrying along to what he knows for sure, he adds, “He's been liaising with the Brazilian Ministry, he said. Something to do with the conservation of magical species in the rainforest. Like, plants and creatures and stuff.”

He keeps emphasising the Ministry thing in the hopes that his mum will actually sound like she approves – even that she's a little impressed, maybe, but all she's done so far is say “Hmm” in this unbearably thoughtful way. Dan wishes he could just know what she was thinking, but she's like a closed book when she wants to be. As soon as Dan answers one question about Phil she comes up with another one, a little queue of queries tripping off her tongue.

“And he definitely passed his Apparition test?”

“Yep,” Dan says. “First time.” Not entirely true – Dan knows Phil had splinched himself the first time – he'd shown up without his fingernails and failed on the spot, but his mum doesn't need to know that.

“And he doesn't mind travelling all this way just to take you?” His mum continues, which is where Dan's carefully prepared responses die in the water.

“No,” Dan says, carefully. He's spent the entire summer skirting around the topic of his relationship with Phil, if he's honest. Not that his parents are stupid – they must've noticed the constant owls and the way Dan's been counting down the days until Phil's return, and then more recently the phone calls. But even so, Dan doesn't quite know how to _tell_ them.

He envies Phil and the way he is with his parents. _Mum can't wait to meet you_ , he kept saying in his letters. _She's heard loads about you_. When Dan had pressed him, asking what exactly his parents had heard, Phil had gone quiet down the phone for a moment and then he'd said, “You know how it was obvious to everyone except you that I really fancied you?”

Dan had laughed, feeling his face grow hot, and said, “Yeah?”

“Well, that,” Phil had said. “She wasn't surprised at all. Neither was dad. I think they were more relieved that I'd finally, like, you know, _done_ something about it.”

Which had started them off on a minor dispute in which Dan insisted that it was him that had done something about it (“Because I kissed you first!”) and Phil had disagreed (“I basically took you on a date without you realising, remember? The whole Hogsmeade thing was totally a date, it's not my fault you didn't notice.”)

“Dan?” Dan's mum's saying.

“Sorry?”

“I was just wondering what time he's gonna be here,” She asks.

“Oh,” Dan says. Ten o'clock. He doesn't even need to think about it, it's been burned onto his brain ever since they agreed on it. “Erm, about ten, I think?”

She looks disappointed at that.

“Me and your dad'll be at work by then.”

Dan knows that, that's why he'd suggested ten o'clock to Phil in the first place.

“Oh,” He says, like it's only just occurred to him. “Oh, well, never mind, he's-”

“He can stay for dinner,” She says, decisively.

Dan's incomplete sentence ends on a spluttering noise.

“Sorry?”

“Dinner,” His mum says. Dan's face must betray his horror at the thought because she quickly continues, “Well, it's not fair to expect him to spend the day travelling up and down the country without stopping, is it? Come to think of it, I've just put clean sheets in the spare bedroom...”

“ _Mum_ ,” Dan says.

“What?” His mum says. “Well, he could sleep here, couldn't he? Get a fresh start the next morning.”

Dan's torn then. Because of course, more time with Phil can't be a bad thing – especially when it's been so long since Dan last saw him. But at the same time, the thought of Phil spending a prolonged amount of time with his parents – with his mum and all of her questions, and his dad and all of his embarrassing anecdotes about Dan's childhood, makes something akin to blind panic descend in Dan's mind. And that's without the elephant in the room of why exactly Phil would even agree to take Dan to London to get his school stuff when Dan has any number of aunts and uncles who could take him instead.

“I'll ask him,” Dan says, tentatively. “I mean, it's kind of short notice, but – I'll ask him.”

-

“Really?” Phil says.

“Yep,” Dan says. He doesn't know how muggles get used to phones – he's pressing the weird plastic speaker thing against his ear so hard that it kind of hurts, but he doesn't want to miss a single thing Phil says. Even the way his breath whispers down the line sometimes is like a gift, somehow, after so long not seeing him. “I mean, I can make an excuse, like – you don't _have_ to, I don't want you to feel like you've got no choice-”

“No, no, it's ok,” Phil says, much to Dan's surprise. “I – I'd like that. Like, meeting your parents and stuff."

Dan's stuck then, because if Phil _wants_ to stay, then Dan's hardly gonna say no to him.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Phil says. He pauses. “Unless – unless you don't want me to.”

“No, no, I do,” Dan says, quickly – anything to dispel the sudden hint of hurt in Phil's voice. “I just – ugh, she doesn't know, you know? Neither of them do. I've been meaning to tell them and I just – I don't know how to phrase it, and anyway, I don't see why it's any of their business, and I just.” He breathes out a sigh. “I dunno.”

“That's fine,” Phil says, after a pause that seems painfully long to Dan.

“It's not – it's not because I'm ashamed of you, or anything,” Dan says, quickly. “I'm _not_. I never could be. I just – it's my mum and dad, you know? Them knowing anything about my life kind of makes me cringe. Like, a lot.”

“You don't have to tell them,” Phil says, after a moment. “The only reason my parents know at all is because – well, I'm kind of obvious.”

“But you would've told them eventually anyway, wouldn't you?” Dan says, already knowing the answer when Phil doesn't reply straight away. “No, no, I'll tell them. I will. I just – it's not a reflection on you, you know that, right?”

“I know,” Phil says. “Parents are embarrassing. My mum's been _really_ embarrassing about it, God.”

Dan grins at that and says, “Exactly. But I will, I'll tell them.”

Later, when he hangs up and sets off walking home, he shoves his hands deep into his jacket pockets and thinks that he just has to figure out _how_.

-

On the morning of Phil's arrival, Dan can't sit still for more than a minute and a half. He manages to eat some toast before his mum and dad disapparate for work, trying to seem like everything's normal and he isn't freaking out, but as soon as they've gone he finds himself rushing upstairs and downstairs, trying to do six things at once.

He'd chosen his clothes the night before – steamed them with his wand and hung them up on his wardrobe door, but in the pale morning light they look stupidly ugly and unflattering. His t-shirt clings weirdly in all the wrong places and the jacket he'd been considering wearing makes his shoulders look oddly bulky and padded, like some kind of 80s nightmare. No, he can't wear that – and so he rifles through his wardrobe, past all of his robes, trying to find an alternative. By the time he's decided on a shirt he doesn't hate and he's lacing up his shoes, it's half nine. It's only when he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror over the fireplace downstairs that he realises he hasn't done anything to his hair. There's a split second when he considers wearing a hat – he must have a hat somewhere – but it's August, and he doubts even he could make a beanie look necessary in sweltering heat.

By the time his hair looks reasonably alright, it's quarter to ten. Dan relocates to the living room, where he can keep an eye on the garden path through the front window. He taps his wand agitatedly against the windowsill, hardly daring to blink. His heart's beating uncomfortably fast, like he's had way too many cups of coffee.

He's just considering standing up to open the window and let some air in when there's the flurry of movement just outside. Dan gets up so fast he bangs his leg on the coffee table and ends up hobbling to the front door and throwing it open before Phil even has the chance to knock.

All he sees in the seconds before he rushes forwards for a hug is Phil's smile and the fact that he's wearing shorts, of all things. He ends up laughing into Phil's ear, holding onto him tightly and breathing in the wonderful, familiar smell of his aftershave.

“What?” Phil says, not letting go. He's stroking his hands up and down Dan's back like he's trying to memorise the feel of him, or something. The thought makes Dan's heart skip in his chest.

“Nothing,” Dan says, closing his eyes and pressing his face into Phil's shirt collar. He's warm and he smells good and he's _here_ , at last. “Oh my God, Phil.”

Phil squeezes him tightly for a second before he pulls back. Dan can't stop staring at him. He's wearing his glasses and his hair's a little crooked, so Dan reaches up to fix it just because he can, noticing how his skin's caught the sun a little, making him ever so slightly less pale than Dan remembers him being.

His eyelashes flutter when Dan touches his face.

“I've missed you so much,” He says in a low voice, his hands finding Dan's hips and just resting there.

“You too,” Dan says. He can't stop the way he's scanning Phil's face, eyes trailing over everything he's missed and everything he'd forgotten and everything he's been thinking about for weeks and weeks. Phil's mouth is pretty high on that list, and there's a half-second when Dan's about to suggest that they get inside before Dan ends up kissing him in front of the neighbours – and then Dan decides he doesn't care, and kisses him anyway.

Phil makes this noise as Dan kisses him that makes him feel hot all over, and he ends up detaching himself just so they can get inside the house before Dan's neighbours start twitching their curtains.

“I swear, it's been the longest summer ever,” Dan says, as soon as the front door's closed behind them.

“I know, right,” Phil says, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Dimple,” He adds, softly, in explanation.

“Yep, still there,” Dan says, closing his eyes like a cat when Phil strokes his cheek. “It's so good to see you. And you tanned! Kind of.”

“Kind of,” Phil says, letting go of Dan's face in favour of turning his bare arms back and forth, showing off his not-translucent-ness.

“It suits you,” Dan tells him. “You're way less likely to get mistaken for a vampire now.”

“That was my plan,” Phil says, grinning and pulling him close. “God, I just – can I just-? I missed you, like, a stupid amount.”

Right before Phil kisses Dan, beneath the shivery anticipation of being this close to Phil after so long, there's another feeling – light and airy, like a bubblegum bubble. It's happiness, Dan realises. He hasn't felt this good in weeks.

And then Phil kisses him, and nothing else matters for a while.

-

They end up seeing more people they know than Dan expected in Diagon Alley. Sadly not Louise, much to Phil's disappointment - it turned out her dad had a surprise holiday planned to celebrate OWL results, so it looked like Dan'd have to wait until September 1st to see her in person again. But they see plenty of other people.

When they're passing by the apothecary (“You don't understand how happy I am to have actually escaped Potions,” Dan says, triumphantly), they run into Jenny, who's already laden down with bags and seemingly holding hands with the blonde girl she's inseparable with at school (“Oh wow,” Phil says, as they walk away down the street, sharing dumbfounded looks. “I feel like we should've swapped war stories. I bet she was as traumatised when you guys went on that date as I was”).

On their way into Gringotts, they spot Thompson, of all people. Dan's thrilled to notice that he seems to be accompanied by his mum, and looks as surly and threatening as ever.

“You should've let me break his face,” Dan says, airily, as the uniformed goblin outside the bank gives them a little bow and opens the doors. “Like, a little bit. Not that I think you couldn't break it yourself, I just – God, I really wanted to.”

“Shut up,” Phil says, so fondly that Dan can't help but grin.

“Hey, he broke your face,” Dan reminds him, as they're ushered through another set of doors into the bright marble of the main hall. “I can't wait to be up against him this year, we can really show him...”

“Wait, wait a minute,” Phil says, as they approach the nearest counter. “Was that you actually looking forward to Quidditch?”

“Vault three hundred and twenty six, please,” Dan says, handing over his parents' key. He looks at Phil and says, “Maybe a little bit. I mean, it's not gonna be the same without you, obviously-”

“Obviously,” Phil says.

“Well, yeah,” Dan says, as a goblin starts leading them out of the hall and down to a cart. “But I dunno. Maybe I'm not such a bad player after all.”

Phil beams at him, his eyes sparkling.

“It took you long enough to realise,” He says.

-

Twenty minutes later, Dan's just deliberating on whether he really needs to go in Quality Quidditch Supplies to buy broom handle polish when someone shoves into him, knocking him into Phil. He's about to tell whoever it was to mind where they're walking when he realises exactly _who_ it is.

“Watch where you're going,” Dean says, grinning at him. “Did you see that? He just shoved into me.”

“Terrible,” Jack says, appearing next to Phil. “Kids these days, am I right?”

“Oh my God,” Dan says, laughing. “That hurt. I'll get you for assault.”

“Ah, well, you'll have to take it up with the Ministry,” Dean says. “Although I don't recommend it – me and Jack have a bit of pull there these days.”

Dan and Phil stare at the two of them.

“You guys are working at the Ministry?” Phil asks.

“Don't sound so surprised,” Jack says. “Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

“Oh my God,” Dan and Phil say in unison.

“That's amazing,” Phil says, fervently.

“It's not bad,” Dean says, grinning. “We were just on our way back there, actually – lunch break's nearly over.”

“We've got a few minutes, though,” Jack says. Dan doesn't understand why he suddenly sounds solemn until he turns to him and adds, “Dan, you have to make sure Gryffindor win the Cup next year.”

“Oh God,” Dan says, taking a step backwards in horror.

“Mate,” Dean says. “That's not your responsibility anymore.”

“I know,” Jack says. “But – look, I'm pretty sure Joe's gonna be the new Captain, so you just have to-”

“Oh, is that the time,” Phil says, pushing an imaginary sleeve up his wrist to check an imaginary watch. “Dan, we should really get going-”

“Hufflepuff are gonna be easy, you don't need to worry about them-”

“Hey!” Phil says, suddenly indignant. “What do you mean, easy?”

“Well, I mean, you're not there anymore, and you were always the biggest threat as a player-”

“But that doesn't mean-”

“We've got to stop meeting like this,” Dean says to Dan, while Jack and Phil carry on bickering.

Dan snorts.

“Once a Quidditch Captain always a Quidditch Captain, right?”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Hey – speaking of Quidditch Captains, we've been put on the World Cup committee. I know, right,” He adds, when Dan gives him a look of amazement. “So drop us an owl before June if you feel like decent seats, alright? Pretty sure we could help you out.”

“What?” Dan says. “Really?”

Dean shrugs.

“It's a better date than Hogsmeade.” Dan doesn't manage to say anything before Dean's grabbing Jack's arm and saying, “Come on, we've got fifteen minutes to get there.”

Dan can't stop grinning as the two of them say their goodbyes and then hurry off down the street.

“Hufflepuff are a great team,” Phil says, in an undertone, when Dan decides he doesn't need polish after all, and starts pulling him in the direction of Flourish and Blotts.

“I know,” Dan says, dutifully. “Hey – d'you want to come to the World Cup with me next summer?”

“What?” Phil says, staring at him in astonishment.

Dan quickly recounts what Dean had told him as they head into the bookshop, and Phil laughs loudly enough to turn people's heads. Dan doesn't care.

“Shut _up_ ,” Phil says. “Oh _wow_.”

“I mean, it'd still cost us money,” Dan says, digging his book list out of his pocket. “And we'd need a tent – but I think my uncle's got one that he'd lend us.”

“We just need to trick your mum and dad into liking me,” Phil says, in an undertone. Dan's about to respond when he just carries on speaking, grabbing a book off the nearest shelf. “Hey, don't you need this?”

It's _Advanced Potion Making_.

“Hilarious,” Dan says, grinning a little when Phil laughs. “Don't you need _this_?”

He grabs one of the books that caught his eye when they first walked in – _Bewitchments For The Bewildered_.

“Your mum needs that,” Phil says, coming closer so he can nudge Dan's arm.

“Mature,” Dan says, putting the book back. “I'll tell her you said that later.” He can't help but laugh at the sudden look of horror on Phil's face. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Your face, oh my _God_.”

“Mums are scary, ok?” Phil says, but he's smiling. “She might try and kill me.”

“She's not gonna try and kill you,” Dan says. “As far as she knows yet you're just a friend, anyway, right? So there's no pressure.”

“Which implies that when you tell her there'll suddenly be pressure,” Phil says, his smile fading a little. “She might, like, want you to be with someone who's gonna become a Healer. That's a thing, you know, like, a muggle cliché? Where mums are like, impressed if you marry a doctor, or whatever.”

“What?” Dan says, incredulously. “Why's that impressive? A doctor's the _last_ person you'd want to marry your kid, surely? They might, like, chop your legs off while you're asleep for a laugh, or something.”

“Oh my God, that's not what they do,” Phil says. “You need to stop reading those horror stories.”

“They're interesting,” Dan protests. “And – so what if you're not gonna be a Healer? I don't think my mum and dad care about shit like that.”

“Yeah, but,” Phil starts, then hesitates.

“But what?” Dan says, even though he thinks he already knows.

“They might care that I'm not, like, a girl,” Phil says.

Dan's thought about that. In fact, he's been thinking about that for months. So he shrugs.

“Well, I don't care,” He says, when Phil gives him a look. “And, like, if they do, then, well. That sucks, but it doesn't change anything.”

“They could stop you from seeing me,” Phil says. There's something about the way he says it, the way he frowns and bites his lip, that makes it clear that this is something that's been worrying _him_ , too.

Dan scoffs. “I'd like to see them try. As soon as I pass my Apparition test you know I'm just gonna come and visit you all the time, no matter what.” When Phil still looks worried, Dan reaches out to touch his hand. “Hey, come on. Look, if it helps, I'm pretty sure they're not gonna care either way.”

“I just don't want you to fall out with them because of me, you know?” Phil says, uncertainly. “Like, they're your mum and dad, you know, and, like -”

“And they love me,” Dan reminds him, squeezing his hand for a second. “So I'm pretty sure it's gonna be fine. Now, come on,” He pulls Phil along by the hand, the two of them narrowly avoiding toppling an elaborate book display. “The quicker I get all this stuff the quicker you get to show me the joys of muggle coffee, right?”

“Right,” Phil says, smiling at him.

-

“You promised me coffee,” Dan says, two hours later, looking down at the mug that Phil just brought him, which is decidedly not a coffee. Not unless they've started putting marshmallows in lattes now, which Dan doubts.

“It's hot chocolate,” Phil says, cheerfully, sitting down opposite Dan and shuffling his chair forwards until their legs are awkwardly tangled under the table.

“I know what it is,” Dan says, fondly, watching Phil fishing marshmallows out of his with a spoon.

“It's our thing,” Phil says, eating a marshmallow and giving Dan a little smile across the table. Most of the time, Dan feels like he's accustomed to the fact that Phil's going to look at him like that and it's going to mean exactly what Dan wants it to mean, and then sometimes it takes him by surprise and he needs a second to take it in. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Mind what?” Dan says, stupidly. “Sorry, you're, er. You're kind of distracting, did anyone tell you that?”

“Good distracting?” Phil asks, flushing a little. “Or, like, I have foam on my nose distracting?”

“Good distracting,” Dan says, laughing as he picks up his own spoon off the tray to fish out a marshmallow. “Hot chocolate can totally be our thing,” He decides, after eating one.

They're quiet for a moment, just sipping their drinks in silence. The muggle coffee shop Phil had picked is full of people this close to lunchtime, and Dan could easily spend hours just watching them all and the variety of their clothes.

Except, being Dan, he ends up saying, “I just. I can't believe that you want to be with me, sometimes.”

Phil gives him this look like he just said that he thinks the sky is red.

“Dan. Seriously?”

“No, no,” Dan says, regretting saying anything. “I just mean – like, it made sense in school, you know, but then now you're this, like, cool adult guy, who goes to Brazil and stuff, and I'm just, like...”

“You thought it was just gonna be a school thing?” Phil suggests, pulling a face.

Dan shakes his head.

“No,” He says. “I thought – I thought you'd meet someone in Brazil, I dunno. Or anywhere, really. Someone -” _Someone good looking, someone who doesn't wear the kind of muggle clothes that make you roll your eyes, someone_ better _than me_ , Dan's brain supplies in quick succession. “Someone else,” He finishes, lamely.

Phil just looks at him, shuffling his chair in closer and rubbing Dan's ankle with his foot.

“Finding someone else usually involves actively looking,” He says, softly, touching Dan's hand where it's clutching his mug. “And I stopped doing that years ago.”

Dan's heart skips a little at that.

“You're telling me you just decided on me when you were, what, fifteen?”

“Thirteen,” Phil corrects, without missing a beat. When Dan looks at him, he says, “What?”

“When I was in first year?” He says, incredulously. “I was the worst. And I was ugly as hell, Jesus, Phil. We have photos at home, you should know, mum takes one of me in my uniform every year, and they're all disgusting.”

“You're never disgusting,” Phil says. Then he adds, “I mean, some of your fashion choices, maybe...”

Dan lets out a surprised laugh and nudges his knee against Phil's leg.

“Oh my God,” He says, when Phil laughs. “Oh my _God_ , shut up. My fashion choices are great!” He huffs for all of half a second, moving his hand away when Phil tries to hold it, but it only takes another half a second for him to relent and let Phil carry on rubbing circles over the back of his hand. “You're the one who told me I'd like muggle clothes.”

“I know,” Phil says, grinning at him. “I created a monster.”

Dan tries to keep up a scowl on behalf of his wounded sense of style, but he can't.

“You didn't think it was disgusting when I bought all of those jeans,” He points out, instead.

“That's because jeans are awesome,” Phil says, rolling his eyes a little, as though Dan should somehow know this. “And – and you have legs.” When Dan snorts, Phil laughs and says, “No, no, I mean – like, great legs. I dunno.”

Dan's face feels hot when he says, “Well, I like them.” When Phil looks at him, he continues, “I mean, they're pretty useful, for, like, getting to places.”

“You know what I mean,” Phil says, tugging on Dan's hand a little. Dan lets him, looking down at their fingers. Phil's hands are fascinating. Dan knows if he looked properly he could see the tiny little nick of a scar on his thumb from where he'd been tending to a snargaluff in his Herbology OWL and forgotten to put his protective gloves back on.

Sometimes Dan feels like a dragon hoarding gold, storing up all of these little facts about Phil the way he does. He turns Phil's hand over, looking for the scar, and Phil helps him, smiling a little as he wiggles his thumb, somehow knowing what Dan's trying to do.

“Snargaluff,” He says.

“I know,” Dan says, smiling at him as he gently strokes the patch of raised skin with his fingertips.

“I swear I got extra marks for carrying on even though I was bleeding all over the place,” Phil says.

“That's what makes you an expert Herbologist,” Dan tells him, only teasing a little. “Your dedication to getting savaged by crazy plants.”

“Definitely,” Phil says, mock-sagely. He pauses. “Honestly, Dan, don't ever worry about me finding anyone else. I mean, unless you ever, like, wanted me to-”

“No,” Dan says, quickly. “God, no, of course not.”

“Well then,” Phil says, softly. His eyes are so blue, Dan'd think it was because of some kind of enchantment if he didn't know otherwise. “The only thing that can go wrong is if your mum and dad hate me.”

“They're not gonna hate you,” Dan says, patiently, thinking that Phil's the loveliest, least antagonising person he's ever met in his life, and the likelihood of anyone hating him is so slim it isn't even worth considering. “I promise.”

-

Despite Dan's reassurances, when they get back to his house Phil stands in the hallway like he's about to be led to the guillotine.

“Mum, we're back,” Dan calls, hearing the clash of pots in the kitchen. He risks a glance at Phil, who gives him a smile that looks painfully forced. Dan has just enough time to give his hand one last supportive squeeze before his mum rushes into the hallway.

“Did you get everything?” She wants to know, holding her hand out to Dan. It takes him a moment to figure out what she means, and then he realises, rolling his eyes and producing the family vault key from his pocket. “Thank you. I'm assuming there's still _some_ gold left in there?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, wishing she wouldn't do the whole _mum_ thing so much when Phil's right there. “I resisted buying a solid gold broomstick again. Sixth year in a row, they should give me a medal.”

“Ha ha,” Dan's mum says, dryly. “Hello Phil. It's great to meet you at last.”

“I, er, hi,” Phil says, tentatively offering his hand for her to shake. Dan can tell she's completely charmed by the way she smiles as she shakes his hand, and with a rush of relief thinks they might be alright after all. “It's great to meet you too.”

“Do you want tea? I just put the kettle on,” She produces her wand out of nowhere and flicks it in the general direction of the kitchen, at which the kettle instantly starts whistling.

“That'd be great, mum,” Dan says. “We'll just go and put this stuff upstairs. Come on, Phil.”

-

Everything gets easier when they get back downstairs, as though the initial meeting was the only hurdle, and everything can only improve from now on. Phil certainly seems to perk up after a few minutes – especially when Dan's mum leads him into the living room to show him all the photos on the mantelpiece, with added humiliating parent commentary.

“You were such a cute baby, Dan,” He insists, laughing at the look on Dan's face.

“Oh, I know. He hasn't changed at all,” Dan's mum says, with a sigh. “Have you seen his uniform pictures yet?”

“Oh my God,” Dan groans.

“The ones on the stairs?” Phil says, giving Dan a look full of mock-innocence. “Er, not properly.”

“I hate you,” Dan hisses as they follow his mum back out into the hall.

Phil just winks at him while his mum's back's turned.

-

Phil meeting his dad is even easier, if that's possible, when he gets home from work an hour later. All he does is ask Phil about Quidditch and then offer to show him the broom shed, which is usually what he does whenever they have guests (much to Louise's horror the last time she visited). Dan manages to flash Phil a quick thumbs up as he goes out into the garden, but he seems far more at ease than he did earlier, so Dan's pretty sure he's going to be alright.

It's a brilliant feeling, the thought that Dan's parents can see just how great Phil is for themselves now. It's nowhere near as mortifying as he thought it'd be. In fact, it's more of a relief than anything.

Dan just has to tell them about – well, about him and Phil. He stands at the back door for a second, watching his dad unlocking the shed at the bottom of the garden and letting the indistinct buzz of their voices wash over him for a moment. Phil looks like he's trying to make himself shorter, hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched – maybe to seem less intimidating. The thought makes Dan want to rush over there and hug him.

“Are you not gonna go out there with them?” His mum asks, bringing a basket of laundry into the kitchen behind him.

“What, and hear dad going on about how Silver Arrows are the best brooms ever invented for the millionth time?”

Dan's mum laughs, setting the laundry basket down and sitting at the kitchen table.

“You should think yourself lucky,” She says. “If you think you've heard that a million times, how many times do you think _I've_ heard it?”

Dan grins.

“Ok, you win,” He says, taking one last look at Phil across the garden before he shuts the back door. He's about to go upstairs and maybe start unpacking his new school stuff when it occurs to him that he could just tell her now. It's like ripping off a plaster – once it's done it's done, and he knows deep down she isn't going to be horrible or overreact or anything, so he isn't quite sure what he's so afraid of.

Maybe it's the fear that she'll be sensible and analytical about it, the way only a mum can be. Maybe she'll make a big deal out of the fact that Phil isn't at school anymore, maybe despite how nice she's been she doesn't like Phil deep down, secretly. In about half a second Dan plays out a scenario where she admits that she doesn't like Phil and Dan ends up defending him – against his own _mum_.

His mum, who's making socks soar from the wet washing basket, steaming as they dry in mid-air, before neatly landing on the table and folding themselves in matching pairs. Dan used to love watching her do stuff like this when he was a kid. It reminds him of Sunday evenings, when he knew he was seconds away from being told to go to bed so he'd sit quietly opposite her in the kitchen, hoping if he was still and silent and just watched her she'd forget that he had to be in bed early. She never did.

“I hope your dad's careful,” She says suddenly, not really paying attention to him at all as she makes complicated shapes in the air with her wand, flicking it at the kettle without even looking so it clicks on and starts to hiss. “Honestly, your father sees the International Statute of Secrecy as something that only applies to other people. If I get another owl off the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad about what's-her-face next door spying through the fence panels...”

“Mum,” Dan says, tentatively, thinking he has to say it now while Phil's not here or he'll never say it. Except then she looks up at him, mid wand-flick, and the words die in his throat. “Er. Thanks for asking Phil to stay.”

She smiles at him.

“It's fine,” She says. “It's only fair, considering he came all this way.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, lamely.

“Besides,” She says. “I wanted to meet him. I mean – me and your dad, we both wanted to.”

Dan's heart clenches in his chest, like he just missed a step going downstairs.

“I, um. That's – yeah, I wanted you to meet him, too,” He says, weakly.

His mum gives him a look like she knows precisely how much of a lie that is, before carrying on steaming socks dry with her wand. Dan watches them flying through the air as she says, “I mean, I was hoping if he did come to stay it'd be because you suggested it, so I was trying to wait for you to bring it up but then you didn't, so I just thought...” She shrugs.

“Right,” Dan says, not sure where this is going.

His mum sighs a little, thoughtfully, and says, “The Fat Lady's a nightmare, isn't she?”

Dan stares at her.

“Sorry?”

“When your dad and I were in school she was, anyway,” She continues, apparently blithely unaware that Dan's utterly lost at sea. “He used to walk me back to the common room and she was just awful, it was like having my mum lurking over our shoulders. I used to make him leave me a few corridors away to avoid having to say goodbye in front of her. Your dad used to think it was hilarious.” She rolls her eyes a little. “It was alright for him. Have you ever been to Ravenclaw Tower?” Dan shakes his head, mystified. “They've just got this talking knocker that asks questions. I mean, it's still weird saying goodnight to someone when there's this bronze eagle thing asking about Elemental Transfiguration, but nowhere near as bad as the Fat Lady used to be.”

“I,” Dan's starting to get an inkling of where this is going, but he doesn't want to say what he's thinking unless he's absolutely sure they're on the same page. “You've lost me, mum.”

She gives him a very fond look.

“Phil's in Hufflepuff, right?” She says. “I mean, in that Quidditch photo of yours, he's in yellow, so I just assumed-”

“Yeah,” Dan says, feeling his face flush.

“I don't think I ever went down to their common room entrance,” She says. “I knew a Hufflepuff girl called Katie, but she was one of those people who was, like, _oh, we're supposed to keep our common rooms a secret_ , you know? Which I never got. I mean, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw have _towers_ , how can you be secretive about where your common room is when it's a massive tower?”

Dan can't help but smile at that.

“I know, right?” He says. “Er – Hufflepuff's just, like, some barrels down by the kitchens? And they have to tap out some rhythm on them or something. It's weird. But they don't have a portrait, or anything.”

“Ah,” His mum says, knowledgeably. “So it was probably easier walking Phil back than the other way around, right?”

Dan blinks, finally connecting everything she's already said together into a flashing neon sign in his brain that says _she already knows_.

“Er,” Dan says. He can feel himself growing uncomfortably hot in the already warm kitchen, but this is already proving to be less mortifying than the time she tried to gently discuss puberty with him when he was twelve, so he's rolling with it. “Er, I mean. We started taking turns. On who walked who back.”

“Me and your dad did that,” She says, smiling at him.

He doesn't know what to say, so he just says, “Mum, how...?”

“What?” She says. When he just gives her a look, she adds, “Oh Dan, I've got eyes.”

“ _Mum_ ,” Dan says, feeling like that's definitely enough of a discussion about him and Phil. She's laughing, so he rolls his eyes, failing to stifle a smile. “I'm just gonna – I'll go and rescue Phil.” Because even with a keen interest in Quidditch, Dan knows his dad's stories about vintage brooms get old pretty quickly.

“Good idea,” His mum says, flicking the last pair of socks so they fold together neatly.

-

If, in the back of Dan's mind, there had been some foolish hope that his parents knowing about him and Phil would somehow stop them from being embarrassing, it quickly dies later on in the evening when Dan's mum starts insisting he put his new school robes on.

“Mum,” Dan says, trying desperately not to sound like a stupid little kid in front of Phil. Not that Phil seems to care, he's too busy hiding a smile behind his hand. “Can't we do this tomorrow?”

“Phil doesn't mind,” She says, as though that's what Dan's bothered about.

“I don't mind,” Phil pipes up, grinning even wider when Dan scowls at him.

“ _Mum_.”

“It'll take five minutes,” Dan's mum says, in that suddenly brisk tone of voice that means he isn't getting out of this one. “Go on, we need to see if they fit.”

Dan could protest that Madam Malkin only measured him up a matter of hours ago and it's highly unlikely that he'll have had a growth spurt since then, but he knows no matter what he says she isn't gonna budge. Sighing, he slips off upstairs.

It feels strange, like it always does, to put his school robes on at home, catching his transformation in flashes in his small bedroom mirror. He spends a few more minutes than he normally would making sure his hair looks alright, just because if Phil has to be present for this particular family tradition then Dan doesn't want to traipse back downstairs looking like a troll.

He zones out a little when he's smoothing down his collar in the mirror, thinking of what it's going to be like, going back to school. He'd entertained an idle little fantasy for a while that sixth year might be a little easier than fifth, simply because there are no major exams – but when he told Phil that theory he laughed, so maybe not.

Long evenings in the library aren't going to be the same without him, Dan knows. Lots of things aren't. The weird thrill of walking past the Hufflepuff table at mealtimes, just knowing Phil was there somewhere – that'll be gone. Holding his hand walking through crowded corridors. The way they'd spent almost all of their time in the grounds when the weather got warmer. They've done that for years, Dan knows, but not the same way – Dan could never just turn and kiss Phil when he wanted before.

Not for the first time, Dan feels overwhelmed by all of the time he and Phil _could have had_ together at school, in comparison with the time they actually got in the end.

Except...

Dan thinks about Phil maybe moving to London, and how he'll be able to go and see him whenever he wants when he passes his Apparition test next summer. He thinks about the World Cup.

Except maybe, Dan thinks, grinning at his own reflection, now they've got all the time in the world.

-

“This is a Howell family tradition,” Dan says to Phil, in the least enthusiastic voice he can muster. He's standing obediently in front of the bookshelf in the living room while his dad's messes around with the camera and his mum gives his robes a critical eye. Phil's stood next to the two of them, not bothering to hide his amusement. “You should feel so privileged right now.”

"I definitely do," Phil says.

“Dan, you could at least try to smile,” His dad says, taking a photo.

“I dunno, I feel like not smiling reflects my inner self,” Dan says, just because he knows it'll make Phil roll his eyes. He's not disappointed. “Ok, ok, here you go, I'm smiling.”

The camera flashes.

“Right, thank God that's over,” Dan says. “I'm gonna go and get changed-”

“Wait,” Dan's mum says. “Phil, you go and stand next to him.”

“What?” Dan says. “Mum, no.” The last thing he wants is this moment documenting – him in his uniform like an idiot and Phil just looking effortlessly good, the same way he has all day.

“I don't mind,” Phil says, moving to stand next to Dan. He smiles at him. “I like photos of us,” He adds, quietly enough that only Dan can hear.

Dan feels himself flush as he says, “Fine, fine, just _one_ , alright?”

“Smile!” Dan's dad says.

Dan looks up at Phil, nudging their shoulders together. Right before the camera flash goes off, he finds himself thinking that smiling's never going to be difficult as long as he has Phil right there next to him.


End file.
